Dungeons Deep
by Ocean Maid
Summary: Amariel Lórien, a beautiful She-elf who went into exile, was visited by an old friend who would change her life forever. Amariel will embark on a legendary quest and meet many friends and enemies. And what secrets which were never supposed to be discovered, will be discovered? And will Amariel adapt once more to a life of danger and adventure or will she hide always in the shadows.
1. A Surprise Visitor

**Hello everyone! This is one of my first stories on Fanfiction, so I really hope you all enjoy it! This first chapter isn't in the movie but I thought I'd add it in to give you a better picture of Amariel and her life. I'm sorry for the slow beginning but I promise you the next chapter will be better. Let me know what you guys think by reviewing, I'm open to critiques as well. Well, enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or any of it's characters, only Amariel and a insignificant others.**

Chapter One: A Surprise Visitor

APOV

The fairest of all the dwellings of all of her people: Lothlórien. There were no trees like the trees of that land. For in the autumn their leaves fell not, but turned to gold. Not until the spring and the new green opened did they fall, and then the boughs were laden with yellow flowers; and the floor of the wood was golden, and golden was the roof, and its pillars were of silver, for the bark of the trees was smooth and grey. Lady Galadriel was highly praised for her beauty, particularly that of her hair, which was a deep and radiant gold, shot with silver. It was said by the elves she had ensnared the light of the two trees, Telperion and Laurelin, and she had a penchant for dressing in the purest white. Because of her wisdom and power, she was considered to be an Elf-witch. Along with her husband, Lord Celeborn, she ruled over the lands of Lothlórien.

However, this story didn't begin in the beauty of Lothlórien, but instead in a small wooden cottage in the outskirts of a forest, isolated from the rest of Middle-earth. The cottage's fire was crackling, thus resulting in wisps of grey smoke to curl out of the stone chimney and into the grey sky. The interior of the cottage wasn't of great magnificence, in fact it was the opposite; there was a set of hickory chairs scattered around a rough, round table, there was only two windows and on each sill there sat a tiny bundle of flowers. The floor was blemished with damp spots were the thatched roof had not been able to prevent the rain from pouring in, and there was but a blanket covering a few bales of hay for a bed. Yet, the cottage was not a miserable nor dull place, the sunlight still filtered through the many copses of the forest and shimmered against a nearby river's azure water and flickered upon the windowpanes of the cottage. The inhabitant of this cottage was a 2776 year old She-elf, who went by the name of Amariel. Amariel was considered nothing short of beautiful by those who had been privileged to see her hundreds of years before she went into exile; she had lapis blue eyes with a tint of violet near the pupil, and silvery-golden hair that curled at the ends. She owned a slender figure but was not overly tall for a She-elf. There was also something that made you want to know more about her; a certain seductiveness. And so Amariel lived a peaceful, tame life; but that was all about to change…

"Tinuviel elvanui, Elleth alfirin edhelhael, O hon ring finnil fuinui, A renc gelebrin thiliol," Amariel sang in a soft, clear voice while tending to the fire. It was an Elvish song that she had sung on numerous occasions, and it happened to be her favourite. In the common tongue it said, 'Tinuviel the elven-fair, Immortal maiden elven-wise, About him cast her shadowy hair, And arms like silver glimmering.' Amariel put down the stick she was using to tend the fire with and slipped a tatty shawl around her shoulders, pulled on her leather boots, and tucked a dagger into her belt, before walking out of her front door. The pale sunlight had vanished without leaving any traces and the milky moon had appeared with a display of myriad stars. The towering trees swayed in time with the chilly breeze, rustling their leaves. The breeze nipped at her arms, making her tug her shawl tighter around her body. As she walked, odd twigs cracked beneath her feet and the quiet sound of crickets chirping could be vaguely heard. It was not a particularly nice night to be wandering the forest but Amariel had to collect more wood and pine cones for the fire; it was important for the fire to be going all night, or else she would surely die of the unmerciful cold that washed over each night, especially in the autumn. Amariel arrived at an ideal spot and leaned over to pick up a few stubby logs and stray pine cones from the damp ground. Swoosh. A sudden noise made her perk up, and make her heart beat slightly faster than usual. Usually, Amariel would not be fazed by an odd noise or two when she was outside, they were common when you lived in a forest, but this sounded much more unnatural as if it was made by a being. But since Amariel heard no more after that, she brushed off the noise as if it had never happened and headed back to her cottage.

The fire was scarcely still alight when she arrived into the warmth of her home, so she got to work trying to relight the fire with the logs and pine cones as soon as she could. When the fire was ablaze again, she undressed herself into her rather tarnished night dress and curled up on her hay bed. It was dark in the one-roomed cottage now, except for the candle Amariel had lit on a stool next her bed so she could read a little before falling asleep. She was reading this particular book for what seemed like the hundredth time for it was the only book she owned. It's pages were worn and yellowed and the cover was almost detached from the book itself but she enjoyed it nonetheless; the story was about a young she-elf named Miriel who fell in love with a wizard, Landion, but their families despised the other so it seemed as though their feelings for each other could not be, it ended with Miriel and Landion running away together and living together until the end of their days. The book was called Vanya Sulie which meant 'Fair Winds' and Amariel thought it was written to sound real but to her it sounded more like a fairy tale, not likely to happen at all. After reading Vanya Sulie, Amariel placed her book back down and fell into a light sleep.

* * *

The sun peeked through the windows, and landed on her pale face. Groggily, she lifted her head from the hay bale, her curly hair tumbling down her back like a waterfall. The suns vibrant rays sent a glossy, gold sheen all around the cottage, ridding any last remains of shadow. Amariel got up from bed and walked over to the window, sparing a quick glance at the dead fire as she did. She closed her eyes yet again, letting the waking rays warm her body. Today would be a good day, she could feel it. The forest was again lush and bright, and the trees still stood majestically above the bushes and rivers, their knotted arms rising ever upwards, as far as her eyes could see. She could hear the orchestra of birdsong, and the gushing of the river. The clouds drifted across the smudged sky of salmon-pink and pale blue. Smiling to herself, Amariel turned from the window and grabbed a bunch of berries from a basket where she stored some of her food, and a knife, then chopped the berries into tiny pieces and scooped them into a small wooden bowl. Deciding to go outside, she went and picked a couple of apples from the only apple tree that grew in the forest, while happily breathing in the fresh air. When she returned back to her cottage she feasted on the berries and afterwards the apples while humming a traditional Elvish song,

"Man ammen toltha, i dann hen morn, Si dannatha nauva." And translated into the common tongue it was, 'Who brings to us, This token of Doom, The darkness will now fall.' So far, this was a morning the same as any other until... Knock. Knock, knock. The noise jolted Amariel about of her daydreaming. Did she hear a knock? It couldn't of been, there hadn't been for many years, why now? Amariel stayed in her seat, scared of what might await if she opened the door. Knock, knock. Amariel almost winced at each knock. It had been so long since the outside world had been apart of her life, so long since she had seen another being, for so long she had been free. Knock. One last knock was enough to do her in, thus she plucked up courage, stood up from the table and walked to the door. Her hand grabbed onto the doorknob and waited there for a few seconds before she twisted it open. No-one. There was no-one there. How odd, she thought, before a gruff voice spoke up behind her.

"Well, what a pleasant home," Amariel spun around, her heart pounding, to meet a rather familiar face.

"Mithrandir?" the She-elf asked in utter bewilderment. The old wizard turned his attention from the cottage and onto Amariel. A tall pointed grey hat sat on his head, he wore a long grey cloak, and a dark scarf wrapped around his neck. He had a long white beard, bushy eyebrows, and long tangled grey hair.

"Ah, yes, so you do remember me then?" he answered with a slight smile that hinted that he was pleased.

"How could I have forgotten?" she said, "but I am clueless to why you are here, please, do tell," Mithrandir made himself comfortable on one of the wooden chairs, and lay his tall, gnarled staff at his feet.

"Er, yes, I will. But for the moment, would you mind sparing me a glass of wine? I have travelled far, and am need of a little something to quench my thirst." he answered. Amariel felt quite like a fool for a quick moment for not offering him a drink. It had been long since she had any visitors, especially surprise ones, and had forgotten how to be a good hostess.

"Oh, yes. I may have a wine bottle stored somewhere around here," Amariel replied more to herself than Mithrandir and began to busy herself with finding it. Once she had found the wine bottle and two glasses she brought them to the table and poured each of them a small glass of wine. Mithrandir gave a short nod in thanks and drank at least half of the glass in one gulp. Amariel quietly sipped her own wine before speaking again.

"So, Mithrandir, what have you been up to these past — how many years has it been? I've lost count,"

"A good many, I would think, and I must say life has been rather boring without you, well, until now that is," he informed, saying the last part in a more serious tone. Amariel listened closely, her old curiosity coming back to her.

"Do go on," Amariel urged.

"Quite recently I have met with Thorin Oakenshield at the Inn of the Prancing Pony. I urged him to march upon Erebor, to rally the seven armies of the Dwarves, to take back their homeland and destroy the Dragon. He is the heir to the throne of Erebor and the Lonely Mountain therefore he must summon a meeting of the seven Dwarf families and hold them their oath, but for that he will need the King's Jewel, the Arkenstone. I am going to help him to reclaim it." Mithrandir explained, shocking Amariel with his every word. Erebor had belonged to Smaug the fiery beast for numerous years and now they were about to reclaim it; Amariel didn't want to think about the consequences if they did. However, there was one question that was bugging her.

"That is all very interesting, Mithrandir, but why tell me? I have no deal with Thorin or any Dwarves,"

"You have changed, my dear Amariel, in your younger days you were always on ventures exploring every nook and cranny of Middle-earth, fighting Orcs and other terrible beasts," the wizard said while smoking from his pipe.

"Yes, you're right, I have changed. But I prefer life this way, no constant problems, no armies of evil creatures, and no people to ruin anything. I like waking up every morning to the soft sound of the trickling river, the lush, evergreen forest, and the birds singing without a single drop of wore etched into their voice," said Amariel.

"Ah, but are you sure, Amariel? To me it only seems like you have adjusted to this life of exile. You belong in Middle-earth no different from any other, do not hide in the shadows when there is still light outside your doorstep." said Mithrandir with wisdom in his powerful words. That was what Amariel did not like about the wizard, he always would hit a soft spot inside her which couldn't help but make her guilty. These words were no different, he spoke the truth but she was just to blind to see it.

"Those are wise words, but I cannot help but notice you have failed to answer my question: What do the Dwarves have to do with me?" she asked in hope of changing the subject and she could see that her old friend always noticed that but pretended otherwise.

"Well, that, I would have thought you would have remembered," he spoke truthfully but when Amariel shook her head he continued, "do you not remember those years ago when you were travelling with your friend from Lothlórien, Calanon, through the Misty Mountains to rescue your other friend, Raina, from a band of Orcs that had attacked her land. You had reached the Orc pack, but found that you were easily outnumbered. They were closing in when Thorin Oakenshield and Dwalin appeared out of no-where and helped you to kill all the Orcs and rescue Raina. Soon after, he and Dwalin left and was thought to never be seen again by you." It took a few moments for Mithrandir's words to sink in; she had long forgotten the incident but now that he brought it up, remembered it very clearly. What was she going to do? She owed him a favour, but was she ready to step out into the world once more, out of exile? Amariel gave her friend a slow nod of understanding and began to pace up and down the small room, deep in thought. Mithrandir was patient and let her do so in silence. Finally, Amariel paused and soon on her heel to face Mithrandir. A silent tear drizzled down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away.

"I know what I must do, but I'm afraid to do it. In exile, my life has been simple, but you are right, my heart does long to once again be free to walk in Middle-earth," said the She-elf softly.

"I, myself, know how you must feel, my friend, for everyone is scared, even me, but if we live in fear of the future because of what happened in our past, we'll end up losing what we have right now," said Mithrandir with a comforting smile. "You are a brave girl, Amariel, you always have been."

"Hardly, Mithrandir. I've lived almost all my life in fear," she replied.

"Remember that bravery is not the lack of fear but the ability to move forward in spite of it," said the wizard. Amariel took his words to heart and swallowed down her dread.

"Yes," she smiled, "yes." Mithrandir raised one of his bushy eyebrows as if to say 'yes for what?' in a joking manner. "Yes, I will help the Dwarves reclaim their homeland,"

"I am proud of you, Amariel." he said and spared a short chuckle to himself.

"You've always given me strength and judgement, mellon, thank you," Amariel said, using the Elvish word for friend.

"Well, I am glad, I shall inform the others as soon as I can," Mithrandir said, picked his staff off the floor, and stood up from his chair. Amariel was rather confused, was he not staying longer?

"Are you not staying?" said Amariel voicing her thoughts.

"No, I am afraid not. I have errands to run and little time to do them in." he said then handed the elf a scroll of yellowing parchment. "Read this, and you will know the details of our journey. I trust to see you soon," Amariel accepted the scroll and placed it gently on her bedside stool, as her friend walked out of the cottage door. But just as he closed the door, a thought hit Amariel and she quickly called out to the retreating wizard.

"Mithrandir! How did you know where I lived?" He turned around, a small grin on his wrinkled face.

"A wizard knows many things; however, I must admit you're home was rather hard to find, I got lost in the forest last night and only found my way at dawn." Realization and relief kicked in, as Amariel realised that the noise she had heard last night when collecting wood was only a poor lost wizard.

"Oh, well, namaarie, my friend," she farewelled Mithrandir and went back inside. When inside, she picked up the scroll and rolled it open, on it, it was written:

 ** _Deed of Contract_**

 ** _Conditions of Engagement_**

 ** _In a role as traveller for Thorin and Company, or in any other role they see fit, at their sole discretion from time to time._**

 ** _Agreed hereto, freely and under neither duress nor force or coercion or extortion nor threat to life and or limb, and superseding any prior contract, agreement or undertaking, survivable clauses notwithstanding, signed and witnessed below, as set forth hereunder: And as appended to from time to time, at the sole discretion of the Director, with all new material being read as if originally included herein. The undersigned, agree to travel to the Lonely Mountain, path to be determined by Thorin Oakenshield, who has a right to alter the course of the journey at his so choosing, without prior notification and/or liability for accident or injury incurred. Traveller agrees that any and all information given by the All Conditions imposed herein are deemed to survive loss or destruction of this document, whether by... Company remain Strictly Confidential. The aforementioned journey and subsequent extraction from the Lonely Mountain of any and all goods, valuables, and chattels shall proceed in a timely manner and with all due care and consideration as seen fit by said Thorin Oakenshield and companions, numbering thirteen, more or less, to wit, the Company. No recompense for loss of income due to any extended absence applies. Traveller is 'at the Service' of Thorin and Company until released therefrom... accidental or wilful mishap, and any reconstruction, re-wording, updating or improvements or additions made... Traveller holds harmless and without blame in perpetuity the Company and its successors for any notoriety, incarceration, or proceedings brought against, in regard to or as a result of the Adventure or any activities related thereto. Also includes slander, libel, loss of face or of social standing in country. Remedies shall similarly not be sought for any unlooked-for misfortune befalling Traveller's home during his absence. Cash on delivery, up to and not exceeding one-fifteenth of the total profit. Not including any of the gross paid to other parties in lieu of royalties or help and provisions given or loaned... shall include a condition similar._**

The contract when for at least six for pages talking about Evictions or Eliminations, The Principles, Confidentiality, Disputes, Specialist Equipment, Transport, and Return Journey. It ended with:

 ** _Wherefore and for which the Company promises the whole amount, to give and to pay to traveller or to traveller's accredited messenger one fourteenth of total profits, if in gold then good and of correct weight, and if other than gold, then of good quantity and of correct and proper measure, within one year of the completion of the Adventure: if, however, Company does not make good on payment herein set forth, Company becomes liable for the whole amount; to give to Traveller, making the stipulation, the penalty of the double of the said amount, the aforesaid Conditions remaining as settled. Furthermore, Company pledges to traveller as security for the aforesaid promises all its goods existing and future. The above is binding with the exception and special reservation that if the amount of goods, property, and merchandise paid thereby is transported by a third party, whose safety cannot be guaranteed in any case, and furthermore, the said goods, property, and merchandise fail to arrive at the destination nominated by the Traveller, then and in such a case the present instrument is cancelled, void, and of no value. Let the present instrument also be cancelled if the said Traveller refrains from asking or exacting payments of the aforesaid amounts of money, goods, property or merchandise for the space of one year after the time or the time limit has elapsed for asking, exacting or obtaining said payment. Without limiting the aforesaid, traveller expressly and forever waives any and all claims that the traveller may now or hereafter have in respect and in any jurisdiction to the so-called 'Moral Rights' with respect to the Recovered Goods. Traveller understands that he embarks upon the Adventure at his own financial as well as personal risk._**

Amariel sighed to herself and walked over to a small drawer and scavenged through papers and notes until she found an black ink bottle and brown and grey feather pen. She dipped the nib of the pen into the ink bottle and hovered the pen over the parchment about to sign her name. Her pale hand started to shake with nervousness and she tried to steady it with her opposite hand. This was it, when she signed her name there was no going back, only forward. For a moment she closed her eyes to try and calm herself, then lowered the pen onto the parchment and scribbled her signature. Amariel stood there for what seemed like hours just staring at her signature. Had she just signed her life away? Or did she sign it back? Eventually, she drew her eyes away from the parchment and onto the outside of the cottage. The forest sky was vanished almost completely by the dense canopy, only a few fragments of blue remained — like scattered pieces of an impossible jigsaw puzzle. The air that was rich with the fragrance of the leaves and pine needles drifted into my nose. Outside the noon daylight shimmered upon the deep red apples and danced upon the treetops. The only movement was the occasional bird, rummaging in a tree or a squirrel dashing up a nearby trunk. The sound of running water in the river had the same hypnotic quality as music. Amariel took in all the air in her lungs then expelled it slowly. It was strange how the strangest things could happen to someone but nature would be unaware of it and would continue as it did every day and night.

Amariel spent the remainder of the day in the forest, not caring for the plants and animals nor collecting supplies as she usually did, but practising her aim with the dagger and bow and arrow on near tree trunks. Seeing as she would be going on a dangerous quest she figured she'd need to defend herself once more. She was quite rusty on her moves but imagined she could still win a fight against a few Orcs with ease. In the days when she was an adventurous elf, she showed incredible skill with weapons especially the bow and arrow. She was quick with her movements, had great balance, and had a good aim. Over the years she had lost a few techniques but soon regained them with the bit of practise she had that afternoon. By the time evening fell like a dark blanket that enveloped the entire earth, Amariel was back in her cottage preparing a fairly big dinner for herself of mushrooms and carrots. She threw the mushrooms into a tray and put the tray on top of the burning fire to cook them while she chopped up the carrots. When her meal was complete, she sat down at her table and began to eat. Amariel felt slightly weird when thinking that this might be the last proper meal she ate for some time, therefore enjoyed every bit of the dinner while it lasted. After dinner, Amariel retreated to her hay bed and felt to tired to read Vanya Sulie but was unable to fall asleep for a long while. Thoughts of Mithrandir, Thorin Oakenshield, contracts, and Erebor circled her mind until she was able to fall into an uneasy sleep; dreams of dragons, dwarves, and darkness crowding her vision throughout the night.

 **I hope you liked it! Please rate and review!**


	2. Dwarves and a Hobbit

**Hey, Fanfiction! I've decided to update as much as I can on this story at the moment since it's so busy at school. By the way, if you didn't know APOV just means 'Amariel's Point Of View'. This has been a really hard chapter to write as so much happens! I've had to rewrite it a couple of times, so I really hope you guys like it. Remember to rate and review, thanks! Well, here it is the second chapter of Dungeons Deep!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or any of the characters, only Amariel and insignificant others.**

Chapter Two: Dwarves and a Hobbit

APOV

The morning was as assured as the tides and just as unstoppable. Amariel needed a few more hours of blackness. Not to sleep, no, but to prepare, to pour her thoughts out and try to organise them again. The dawn light played on her face, making it hard to concentrate. Soon Amariel would be on her way to Erebor with a company of Dwarves, not something she intended to do, but something that happened nonetheless. The She-elf turned her head stiffly toward the window and saw that the twilight had melted away, and a majestic sunrise replaced it. A red-orange glow seeped over the horizon as if the light itself was being poured from a molten sun. Powerful rays flooded over the landscape lighting every blade of grass, and attempted to dry up the beads of water on every leaf. The few clouds that swam through the pink and tangerine-coloured sky were almost transparent and seemed to stretch on for miles. Yawning, Amariel sat up in her bed and rubbed her eyes, trying to fully wake herself up. Slowly, she got up and made her way toward the table, picking up the contract as she did. When she had reached her destination she made herself as comfortable as she could and reread the parchment over and over again, letting it sink in that she truly was on a quest to reclaim Erebor for Thorin Oakenshield. An hour or so later, Amariel had two apples freshly picked from the tree for breakfast, and then started to pack for her journey. In truth, there wasn't that much to pack at all because she didn't have chests of priceless properties or antiques; so she was used to travelling light. Amariel wrapped a few apples and lembas bread inside a brown paper bag, folded up a spare dress and stuffed it at the bottom of her satchel, and rolled up her frayed blanket and put it at the top. Once she had buckled her satchel and rechecked that she had everything, she slipped the contract into her breast-pocket, and walked out of her front door for, perhaps, the last time.

She closed the door and the gazed in the direction of the sun shining its warm golden light over the forest. It seemed to Amariel that the entire landscape was glowing under the warmth of the morning, and the dew was still plainly visible on all the grass blades nearby. She stared at her homely cottage and took in every detail she possibly could so to always remember it, even if she might never return. Taking in a big breath of courage, Amariel drew her eyes away from her home and stepped into the dense forest that was beckoning to her. However, not even a minute after she walked into it, that she realised she had no-idea where she was going. Mithrandir had never told her the exact place of where they would next meet; did he forget? Amariel shook her head at the question, her friend wasn't someone to forget to share important information, no, he must said something! Irritated, the elf sat down on a tree stump and racked her brains for some sort of clue of her destination. But nothing popped into her mind. She stood up, kicked a pine cone in frustration, and watched as it rebounded off a twisted, hickory-coloured tree. Again, she spotted another pine cone and was about to throw it at something when a mark on the previous twisted tree caught her eye; it was what looked like an ancient Dwarvish rune, glowing a powerful blue. Hope hammered in her chest at the sight of the rune, Mithrandir must of left it there and that meant... she spotted the same blue rune on another tree a dozen meters from herself; the wizard had made a trail and she was meant to follow it!

For all that day Amariel tramped through the heavy thickets of trees and bushes, odd wisps of branches snagging her arms, cheeks, and clothing. Food was scarce in the deepest parts of the forest, there weren't many animals and natural foods such as mushrooms and berries grew very rarely. When night finally arrived like a black wave dotted with stars that were unseen by the She-elf who was under the thick canopy. Amariel rested against a large tree so to catch her breath; this was probably the most exercise she had done in one day for a long while. She brought out one of the lembas breads to feast on for dinner, it wasn't much but it got rid of her famished stomach for the time being.

After dinner, she collected a few sturdy logs and secured them between three trees to make a frame, then laid down dozens of sticks on top of the frame to make a roof, and finally propped up some longer sticks against it as to make a wall. Feeling rather proud of her hut, she lay down in it, kicked off her boots, unrolled her blanket over her feet, and closed her eyes to try and get some shut-eye. But even after an hour of attempting to sleep she was wide awake, the night noises of birds and chirping crickets echoing in her ears. Her thoughts and questions took this chance to consume her mind; where was Mithrandir leading her? When would she reach her destination? She hoped her food would last until she got there. Who would she meet? Would they be friendly or unfriendly? Because Dwarves and Elves weren't known for being the greatest of friends. For at least another hour those thoughts swirled and played in her head, until she was able to drift off into the land of dreams.

* * *

Days went on like that, Amariel would wake, have a short breakfast, and walk through the dense land for many miles before night would come and she'd make a shelter for herself and fall asleep. She was starting to get used to living a life on the road and, despite the uncomfortable bedding ground, was beginning to quite enjoy it. The forest was becoming less and less dense, and the trees were letting in more of the sky, so she guessed the forest would soon end which was a relief. On the fourth day of her travel she came across the edge of the forest, and could not suppress the smile that played on her lips; she felt triumphant, but knew that the distant she had just completed would be nothing compared to what lay ahead of her. A sigh of wonder escaped her mouth when she focused on the landscape ahead of her.

It was a meadow that looked as if it had stepped from the pages of a storybook. The grass was Eden-green and thigh-high to a thrush. The mountains in the distance had peaks that looked as cruel as a hag's teeth. It was the only part of the meadow that looked off in some way — the rest of it was stunning. It wasn't just the sights that pleased her senses, but the sounds, smells and tastes were sweet as well. The sky above the meadow was a feast for the eyes; it stretched as far as the eye could see in a dome of cocktail-blue, jabbed with fluffy clouds. Squeaking swallows chased whirring dragonflies in a dance of life and death. A azure-blue ribbon of river ran through the centre of the meadow, and a party of young ducklings scattered from under her feet as she approached it, crashing into the water. The song of the river was very gentle as it went plinking and tinkling over the gravel bed. The music of the meadow came to my ears above the sound of the water: the dawn chorus, buzzing midges and the whispering of the wind. In fact, it was so soothing that she had to lay her head against a mossy rock, then drifted into a deep sleep.

When Amariel awoke, she was very hungry thus dug up some wild onions and ate them raw. They weren't the most tasty but they did an alright change from lembas bread and apples. The elf spent the rest of the day, walking through the meadow following the Dwarf runes written on big rocks, stones, or the odd tree. By the time the first stars started to flicker in the night sky, Amariel had sadly came to the end of the meadow and stood at the front of a rough wooden sign which said: Welcome to Bree. Amariel recalled Mithrandir saying that he had met with Thorin at the Inn of The Prancing Pony which was in Bree, perhaps she was getting close to her destination. She entered the sleeping town by a cobblestone path, passing dimly-lit houses and cottages, stables inhabited by horses, pigs, and donkeys, and cloaked men. She eventually reached the Inn of the Prancing Pony, and pushed open the door. Inside, drunkards gulped down ale by the tankard, dribbling the liquid down their chins, a couple of small hobbits carrying trays of food to those who ordered them, women waiting on men, trying to understand their slurred words, and a group of musicians who played merry music in the corner. Amariel made her way up to the counter, ignoring the curious glances of men. The line to the bar wasn't long, so her turn came reasonably quickly.

"Excuse me, sir, may I have a room for one night, please," she ordered to the barman. He was a rather chubby man with a stubble-beard, dozy eyes, and who wore a dusty apron, covering his clothes.

"Sure ya can, miss. That'll be ninety pence," he held out his dirty hand for the coins to be put into. Amariel slid her hand into her pocket, willing that there was some money in there and found ninety-two pence. Breathing out a sigh of relief, she plopped the money into his hand. The barman counted the coins then placed them under the bar bench. "Room Four is unoccupied, miss —?" he paused for an answer.

"Miss Lórien,"

"O' right, Miss Lórien, enjoy ya stay," he said and handed Amariel a silver key. She left the bar and wandered off to the room section. Skimming over the numbers on each door, she found number four, slipped the key into the lock, then stepped inside, making sure to lock it again afterwards. You never know what sort of people you might find in these parts. The room wasn't fancy but it was about the size of her whole cottage which wasn't that big; the walls were a pale grey and the floor was made out of wood planks. Amariel then climbed into the first comfortable bed she'd had in days, blew out the candle that was lit next to her bed, and slowly fluttered her eyes shut, falling into sleep almost instantly.

The morning came all too fast for Amariel. She was exhausted from her travels and wanted nothing more but to lie in that comfortable bed for the whole day; but knowing it couldn't be, she heaved herself up and got ready to leave the Inn. For breakfast she ordered bread and cheese and ate it in silence at one of the Inn's tables. The Prancing Pony wasn't as busy as it was at night, she figured most were still asleep or had bad cases of hangover. After eating, she thanked the barman and returned the key before leaving the Inn. It took a few moments for Amariel's eyes to adjust to the bright morning sunlight that danced upon the town, glistening in the fountain, bouncing along the streets, and reflecting against the house's windows. Amariel headed down the street, and soon left the town of Bree, still spotting the runes and following them, and entered a lush countryside, full of vibrant flowers, and rushing streams. There weren't any houses, buildings, or people in this area which was rather nice as Amariel decided to freshen up a bit and have a swim in a nearby stream. She stripped from her clothes and left them neatly-folded on the bank, then lowered herself into the cool, crisp water. The stones at the bed of the stream were smooth and slippery under her feet, and the little plants that grew in the clear water tickled up against her bare legs. Amariel flung her blonde-brown locks into the liquid letting it wash away the muck and return them to their normal white-blonde colour. Once Amariel thought she was all clean, she left the stream, changed back into her dress and boots, and continued on her way.

It was past dusk, when Amariel reached the next civilisation — it's name was Hobbiton, and it was by far the most homely town she'd come across yet. The houses did not sit on the ground like any other normal houses but were buried underneath a hill of grass. The doors were not only colourful but round, and each house had its own special, unique features to it. The surroundings were luxuriant and there were trees scattered throughout the darkening gardens, and the veggies patches blossomed with pumpkins, potatoes, cabbages, carrots, and many more. As Amariel entered Hobbiton through a narrow stone bridge, she noticed all the homes were quiet; that is, all except for one. Faint noises were echoing from inside it. That particular house sat highest in Hobbiton, and had many windows indicating that the hobbit who lived there was quite wealthy, and owned a freshly-painted emerald-green door. A glowing blue rune on a stone nearby swiped her attention. She picked the stone and noticed that there was a trail of glowing stones, leading all the way up to the wealthy house. Hopefully, that meant that she had reached the place that she was supposed to; thus Amariel headed toward the house on the top of the hill, but when she got there she was met with a rather big surprise. A group of about a dozen dwarves of all shapes and sizes stood next to the green door that had blue rune on the side of it. The dwarves all wore warm coats and boots, and had beards and moustaches, matching the colour of their hair. Above them stood an old, familiar wizard. The wizard turned to face the elf, and let a small smile creep onto his face.

"Ah, Amariel! I see you found the trail I made, I was hoping you would," he greeted, making a few of the dwarves turn their heads to snatch a look at whoever Mithrandir was speaking to, while the others were to busy with the doorbell to notice.

"Yes, but it wasn't the easiest path to find, mind you," she replied with a slight roll of her eyes.

"Really? I thought it would be rather simple to find. After all, do elves not have sharp eyes?" Mithrandir teased. As the entire group of dwarves heard the word 'elves' they turned their attention to Amariel just as the door swung open. The poor dwarves fell face-first onto the ground, tumbling onto each other, and letting out pained grumbles.

"...I can only say it is in very poor taste —" ranted a highly frustrated voice. The door-opener was revealed to be a three-foot tall hobbit. He had tawny-brown, ruffled hair, wore striped pyjamas hidden by a brown dressing gown tied tightly around his body, and had a pair of aegean-coloured eyes. The hobbit stared at them in utter bewilderment, before seeing Mithrandir.

"Gandalf," he sighed understandingly, addressing the wizard by one of his other more commonly used names. Mithrandir looked back at him with wide, innocent eyes, before hobbling into the house without an invitation and the rest of the dwarves followed, having of managed to get themselves off the floor. Amariel thought she'd had better be well-mannered to the hobbit because no-one else was.

"May I come in?" she asked, capturing the dazed-looking hobbit's attention.

"What?"

"May I come in?" she said again.

"Oh, yes, of course!" he exclaimed slightly sarcastically, "why not have an elf in my home as I already have countless dwarves and a wizard!" Smiling, Amariel stooped to fit through the door, walked inside, and found the house just as comfortable as it's whereabouts. The floor was made out of furnished wood and the ceiling was decorated with a chandelier. On the walls there was pictures of Hobbiton and family distant family members. As she turned around the corner, she saw all the dwarves disappear into the hobbit's kitchen and raid his food and furniture to place on or around a rectangular table that was in the dining room. The hobbit stood beside the door of his pantry, ordering the dwarves to put back the food they were taking, but they weren't listening. Amariel took this moment to come up to him and attempt at a conversation.

"My name is Amariel, it's a pleasure to meet you —?"

"Bilbo Baggins," he said stiffly almost surprised at her politeness, but nevertheless held out his hand. She shook it lightly and gave him a gentle smile.

"You have a nice place, it reminds me of my home a bit," she started, making Bilbo looked at her strangely, not noticing a dwarf had gone off with his silverware.

"I thought elves lived in kingdoms of magnificence, not normal houses,"

"They do," Amariel replied, "however, I do not live with any of my kin, but alone in a forest far north from here."

"Does it get lonely, living so far away from civilisation?" questioned the curious hobbit.

"Well, not really, but now that I think back on it, I suppose I did feel at times quite isolated,"

"Oh, well, it is indeed pleasant to have one person with manners amongst this lot," Bilbo stated, looking wearily at the dwarves. "But I must ask, what are you doing —" He cut his sentence off when a rather plump dwarf with a looped red beard waddled out from the pantry holding three large wheels of yellow cheese. "Excuse me. A tad excessive, isn't it? Have you got a cheese knife?" Bilbo asked the dwarf.

"Cheese knife?" said a reasonably tall, black-haired and bearded dwarf as he followed the plump dwarf out of the pantry, "he eats it by the block." Feeling like this was the right time to leave Bilbo alone with his frustration at the dwarves, she found her way back over to Mithrandir who was helping to set up the table.

"Do you mind telling me why I am in Bilbo's home?" Amariel whispered on the sharper side. She was as clueless as the hobbit was to why she was here, were they not supposed to be off hiking over mountains and tramping over valleys?

"Ah, so you know his name, that's very good," he said, pleased. The elf sent him a short glare, making the old wizard continue, "yes, well, I've decided to add a fifteenth member to our company,"

"A hobbit? What are you thinking?"

"I think I've made a fine choice, don't you? An adventure will do him good, you'll see," he explained shortly.

"I do hope you know what you're doing, Mithrandir, getting Bilbo mixed up into this mess," she said eyeing him, but her friend only smiled.

"Of course, now, I do suggest you make yourself at home and help yourself to dinner. It may be one of the last ones you get for a while," said Mithrandir, hinting that their conversation had come to an end, and Amariel reluctantly obliged. She made herself comfortable on a wooden chair and lit the candles that were set on the middle of the table, so to give them light. As the dwarves readied their feast, they did not pay her much attention for dwarves were known to love their food, perhaps even as much as their gold! Bilbo continued to shout at and order the dwarves around, but was having no such luck of them actually listening to him. Soon, a dwarf with many small grey plaits came up to Mithrandir, carrying a tray, and offered him some tea.

"Excuse me, Mr Gandalf, can I tempt you with a nice cup of chamomile tea?"

"Oh, no thank you, Dori. A little red wine for me, I think," the wizard replied. Suddenly, a voice coming from behind her caught her attention.

"Move off, elf, we need to set these down." She saw two young dwarves behind her, holding a barrel of ale. One had long blonde, plaited hair, fair skin, sky-blue eyes, and a beard divided into two plaits; the other had short brown hair and matching beard, playful hazel-eyes, and tan skin. The two dwarves glared at her, and she began to move out of her seat as they pushed the barrel into place.

"I'm Amariel, by the way," she introduced, and waited for the dwarves to share their names with her, but they did not. The dark-haired one raised an eyebrow while the other continued to glare. What did I do wrong? Why do they not like me? Questions buzzed through her head as she watched the two dwarves turn and walk away. Looking away from them, she found Mithrandir numbering the dwarves off on his fingers. "Fili, Kili," he pointed to the two dwarves, ah, so those are their names, she thought while the wizard carried on counting, "Oin, Gloin, Dwalin, Balin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Nori... Ori." Just as he finished a dwarf whose name she thought was Bifur came up to the wizard and spoke something unintelligible, then patted his arm. Mithrandir, however, seemed to understand him and replied, "yes, you're quite right, Bifur. We appear to be one dwarf short." Amariel searched the room for any sign of the dwarf leader, and sure enough found none.

"He is late, is all," A tall, sturdy dwarf answered, whilst leaning on the door frame with a tankard of ale in his hand. "He travelled north to a meeting of our kin. He will come." Mithrandir gave him a curt nod before noticing Dori had come back with his red wine.

"Mr Gandalf? A little red wine as requested. It's, eh, got a fruity bouquet,"

"Ah, cheers," the wizard accepted the tiny glass the dwarf was offering to him and took a single gulp, emptying the entire glass in one go. Amariel turned her attention back to the feast that had been prepared before them. There were mashed potatoes, cucumbers, corn, tomatoes, freshly-baked buns, bacon, sliced pork, apples, pumpkins, sausages and much more! Amariel helped herself to an apple, a bun, and an ear of corn, while the dwarves piled their plates to the limit, half of which was meat of some sort.

"Bombur, catch!" Bofur shouted joyfully and chucked a piece of food to the fat dwarf who caught it in his mouth, making them all cheer. Amariel felt most uncomfortable dining with the dwarves as they had despicable manners such as; talking with their mouths full, snatching the food with their hands and stuffing it into their mouths, spraying out their ale, throwing their dinner all over the place, and they would not stop chatting! Bilbo obviously thought the same thing, so walked away from the table in disgust, probably to prepare a small meal of the leftovers in the pantry. Without warning, Fili jumped onto the table, squashing the food, and walked along it handing out tankards to his fellow mates.

"Who wants an ale? There you go," said Fili as Dwalin poured ale into Oin's hearing trumpet, and smirked as Oin spluttered it out and everyone laughed. The dwarves clonked their drinks together and swallowed the substance down, dribbling half of it down their beards. Amariel was desperate to leave the table, but felt it would be rude to do so, thus she sat tensely watching the rowdy dwarves. Once their ale was drained from their cups, Nori let out a gurgling burp, and shortly afterwards Oin released an even louder one that seemed to go on for at least a minute. Bilbo and the elf both looked away in revulsion.

When the meal had finished, the dwarves, Mithrandir, and Amariel left the table and began to walk about again. Amariel watched as Nori dabbed his face with a doily and how Bilbo snatched it back from him.

"Excuse me! That is a doily, not a dishcloth!" He scolded.

"But it's full of holes!" exclaimed Bofur, making Bilbo turn toward him and hold up the doily.

"It's supposed to look like that, it's crochet."

"Oh, and a wonderful game it is too, if you got the balls for it," Bofur replied with a smirk. Amariel rolled her eyes and went up to her friend who was smiling at the odd company.

"Mithrandir, look at the mess these dwarves have made! Poor Bilbo —" She was interrupted by Bilbo himself growling in irritation.

"Bebother and confusticate these dwarves!"

"My dear Bilbo, what on earth is the matter?" asked the wizard.

"'What's the matter?!'" Bilbo repeated in disbelief, "I'm surrounded by dwarves! What are they doing here?"

"Oh, they're quite a merry gathering, once you get used to them," Mithrandir smiled and he saw two dwarves squabbling over a chain of sausages as if in a game of tug-of-war.

"I don't want to get use to them!" the stressed Bilbo complained to the two taller people. "The state of my kitchen! There's mud trod into the carpet, they've pi-pillaged the pantry! I'm not even going to tell you what they've done in the bathroom; they've all but destroyed the plumbing! I don't understand what they're doing in my house!" Bilbo's rant was shortly paused by Ori who had come up to them with his plate.

"Excuse me, I'm sorry to interrupt, but what should I do with my plate?" he asked sheepishly. But before Bilbo had a chance to reply, Fili waltzed up and took it from him.

"Here you go, Ori, give it to me," Fili frisbee-threw it at Kili, who threw it behind his back to Bifur. Bifur caught it from behind his back without even glancing at it, and began to wash it in the sink. Fili, Kili, and the other dwarves began to throw plates, bowls, and utensils to each other to get them into the sink.

"Excuse me, that's my mother's West Farthing crockery, it's over a hundred years old!" yelled Bilbo as Amariel ducked as a plate flew over her head. Glancing over at the dining room, Amariel saw a group of dwarves begin to drum their utensils on the table with their fists, rhythmically, then scraping them against each other.

"And can-can you not do that?" Bilbo exclaimed, "you'll bunt them!"

"Ooh, d'hear that, lads? He says we'll blunt the knives," Bofur jeered, continuing to bang the knives and forks. Over in the kitchen, Kili started to sing and others joined in.

"Blunt the knives, bend the forks, Smash the bottles and burn the corks. Chip the glasses and crack the plates, That's what Bilbo Baggins hates! Cut the cloth and tread on the fat, Leave the bones on the bedroom mat. Pour the milk on the pantry floor, Splash the wine on every door. Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl, Pound them up with a thumping pole. When you've finished, if any are whole, Send them down the hall to roll!" the dwarves continued to sing, merrily, while performing their own special tricks, making Bilbo almost explode with stress. Mithrandir brought out his pipe and blew just as a plate came and sliced in half the puff of smoke, making him let out a cheery chuckle. Amariel couldn't help but share a little laugh as well as the dwarves began to play oboes and wooden flutes. Finally, they finished the last line of their song; "that's what Bilbo Baggins hates!" Bilbo pushed his way through the laughing dwarves into the kitchen, huffing in anger, only to find his dishes all clean and stacked neatly. Suddenly, there was three loud knocks on the door, and the room instantly fell silent.

"He is here," Mithrandir muttered. The company quietly headed toward the door and the wizard slowly opened it to reveal a tall dwarf who wore a few pieces of armour and many coats. He had raven-black, slightly wavy hair that fell just past his shoulders with two strands of it in beads at the front, his eyes were a deep brown, his complexion was a light tan, and had a bristly beard and moustache.

"Gandalf," he acknowledged the wizard and invited himself inside. "I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. Wouldn't have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door."

"Mark?" Bilbo repeated, confused. "There's no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago!"

"There is a mark; I put it there myself. Bilbo Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company , Thorin Oakenshield," Mithrandir explained to the hobbit. Amariel stayed near the back of the crowd of dwarves, hoping the dwarf prince would not see her. She was quite nervous, if truth be told, the dwarves she had met so far hadn't been overly-nice to her and he seemed to be a rather stern and controlled person. This was the most people she had met in one day for hundreds of years, so she was still adjusting to the sudden change!

"So, this is the hobbit. Tell me, Mr Baggins, have you done much fighting?" Thorin circled Bilbo, while taking off his coat.

"Pardon me?"

"Axe or sword? What is your weapon of choice?" he interrogated.

"Well, I have some skill with the conkers, if you must know, but I fail to see why that's relevant," Bilbo defended before falling into bafflement once again.

"Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar." stated Thorin and all the dwarves laughed, including Mithrandir. Guessing that now was a good time to introduce herself, Amariel stepped out of the shadows and looked down at Thorin Oakenshield.

"You have my greetings, Thorin Oakenshield. I am Amariel and —"

"I know who you are and what your purpose here is," he interrupted rudely, "Gandalf already informed of that. You should be very thankful that I have accepted you... an elf." Thorin gave her a curt scowl to prove his point, and she felt her cheeks turn fuscia.

"Now, now, Thorin. There is no need to be harsh, Amariel only means to help you. It would be wise to have an elf on your side," Mithrandir spoke up to defend her.

"Very well, but if I get even a hint that something is not right, she will leave and never return," he said and Amariel gave a vulnerable nod. The company of dwarves walked away to the dining room table, Mithrandir, Bilbo, and Amariel following close behind.

* * *

When they had all settled again at the table, Balin spoke up about the meeting his leader had attended to. He was one of the oldest and most wise of the group, had a white beard and hair, and a long, hooked nose.

"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin? Did they all come?"

"Aye. Envoys from all seven kingdoms." Thorin replied. The dwarves gave a quiet cheer.

"What do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say? Is Dain with us?" Dwalin asked.

"They will not come," he answered, and the dwarves let out a loud moan of disappointment. "They say this quest is ours, and ours alone." Amariel sighed from where she leant on the wall, not wanting to sit with the unfriendly dwarves.

"You're going on a quest?" uttered Bilbo from behind Mithrandir with curiosity and a slight bit of fear.

"Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light," the wizard said, preparing for a long conversation. Obeying Mithrandir, Bilbo disappeared to get a candle as the wizard pulled out a piece of parchment from his cloak pocket and lay it down on the table for everyone to see. It was a map of Middle-earth, showing in detail each land and its terrain and paths. "Far to the east, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak." Mithrandir started as Bilbo returned with the candle.

"The Lonely Mountain," Bilbo said reading off the map.

"Aye, Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time," Gloin added, while some rolled their eyes. Amariel, however, listened in. She was intrigued by this prophecy that had been predicted.

"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold; When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end."

 **Please rate and review!**


	3. The Burglar

**Hey, I'm back! It's been a while, I know, but at least I've finally finished. This has been a hard chapter to write and I'm not sure if it's the greatest but it's far from bad, i think. Anyway, reviews are always open, in fact, welcomed! I would like to know your thoughts and improvements on my story. Well, I'll let you guys read what happens next in the life of Amariel! Have fun and enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or any of the characters, only Amariel and some insignificant others.**

Chapter Three: The Burglar

APOV

"Uh, what beast?" Bilbo asked with fear etched into his voice, breaking the suspenseful silence. Amariel spared a careful look around the room, observing the dwarves' solemn faces. The She-elf her heart sadden slightly at the mention of the beast that robbed people of their homelands, stole precious lives, and took over what once was the greatest kingdom in Middle-earth: Erebor. Amariel had never seen the kingdom herself but had always heard tales from her kin about the magnificent structure. She was told that Erebor was not only powerful but held wealth and treasure beyond anyone's imagination. The dwarves would delve deeper and deeper into the earth discovering jewels, and fashioning objects of great beauty out of diamond, ruby, emerald, and sapphire. But when the merciless dragon came he destroyed all that, leaving the people to wander the wilderness until the time for them to take back their homeland would come. That time was now. Bofur was the first one to bravely speak up, trying to show no uncertainty or fear in his words.

"Well that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat-hooks, extremely fond of precious metals —"

"Yes, I know what a dragon is," interrupted Bilbo quickly, sounding as if he most certainly did not want to know anything about a dragon. Ori suddenly stood up in his chair with a courageous look.

"I'm not afraid! I'm up for it!" he shouted, "I'll give him a taste of the dwarvish iron right up his jacksie!" Several dwarves began to shout their agreement with the young dwarf or their disagreement.

"Sit down," scolded Dori, pulling Ori back into his seat.

"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us. But we number just fourteen, and not thirteen of the best nor brightest. And that's including the elf," said Balin wisely, giving Amariel a half-glare when he mentioned her. The dwarves started to grow rowdy again shouting things like, "Hey, who are you calling dim?" or "Watch it!" or "No!" or "What did he say?" and "Yeah, let's get rid of the elf!" The last words hurt her even if they were coming from dwarves, but she tried to cover it up with a straight face.

"We may be few in number, but we're fighters, all of us, to the last dwarf!" Fili said encouragingly while everyone nodded in agreement and approval.

"And you forget, we have a wizard in our company! Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!" yelled Kili supporting his brother's words. Everyone turned their heads expectantly at the wizard who started to look uncomfortable and squirm slightly. It was a load of rubbish, the lot of it! Amariel knew that her friend had never slain a dragon, it would be near impossible for him to do that! Sure, Mithrandir was brave and had defeated more evil than most people on this earth could even dream of, but a dragon could only be killed by a black arrow, and those were very rare to come by!

"Oh, well, now, uh, I-I-I wouldn't say that, I —" the wizard in question stuttered before being intruded on by Dori.

"How many, then?"

"Uh, what?" Mithrandir said nervously.

"Well, how many dragons have you killed?" Dori interrogated. Smoke began to curdle out of Mithrandir's pipe and waft out of his nostrils and started to cough. "Go on, give us a number!" The dwarves yet again jumped to their feet and argued the number of dragons the wizard had killed.

"P-Please, stop? Will you?" Bilbo tried to calm the situation in his dining room but it only got worse. As the noise grew louder and more accusing, Amariel placed her left hand on Mithrandir's shoulder to comfort him, and he gave her a thankful smile. Soon, obviously having enough of this nonsense, Thorin stood and silenced the company.

"Shazara! (Silence!)" The room instantly fell into a serene silence and the dwarf prince continued, "If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumours have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for 60 years. Eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor? Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr! (To arms! To arms!)" He cheered while all the dwarves followed his lead, all except Balin.

"You forget, the front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain," said the older dwarf, making the company go silent. Mithrandir seized this moment to share some good tidings with the people at hand.

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true." The wizard held a slight smirk on his face, giving the impression he knew something that they did not. Twiddling his fingers, he brought out a dwarfish key, ornately wrought. This key perked Thorin's attention and he gazed at in wonder.

"How came you by this?" he asked hoarsely.

"It was given to me by your father, by Thrain, for safekeeping. It is yours now," replied Mithrandir and handed Thorin the extraordinary key. Amariel had trouble taking her eyes off the large, golden key; for some reason, it's beauty and unique design intrigued her. It seemed that everyone else felt that way too as the room had fell so silent that you could hear a pin drop. Why, even Bilbo was entranced by the key.

"If there is a key," Fili said speaking his mind, "there must be a door." Mithrandir roamed the end of his pipe around the ancient map on the table until it landed on a paragraph of, what looked like to Amariel, dwarvish runes. However, Amariel was unable to read the writing so voiced her mind to Mithrandir, speaking for the first time in a while.

"What do they read?" If the circumstances were different, the dwarves would probably make some remark of her being dim-witted, but seeing as they too could not read the runes, they waited in anticipation for the answer.

"These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls," he answered.

"There's another way in!" exclaimed Kili, clearly excited.

"Well, if we can find it, but dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden in this map and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle-earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But, if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done," explained Mithrandir.

"That's why we need a burglar," Ori put in. A burglar? Why did we need a burglar? Did Mithrandir tell me nothing of this venture?

"Hmm, a good one, too," Bilbo said with his hands in his pockets, examining the map. "An expert, I'd imagine,"

"And are you?" Gloin asked, and everyone waited for an answer. Confusement fell upon Amariel and she looked from the wizard to the hobbit. They couldn't be asking Bilbo if he wanted to join their perilous journey, they couldn't! He hardly looked like the type to be hiking over Middle-earth only to face the wrath of Smaug by himself! One does simply not ask that!

"Am I what?" he repeated glancing around to see if there was anyone standing behind him.

"He said he's an expert!" Oin cackled and the dwarves laughed along with him. Amariel couldn't tell if it was a gleeful laugh or an unkind one.

"M-Me? No, no, no, no, no. I'm not a burglar; I've never stolen a thing in my life!" the hobbit stuttered truthfully.

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr Baggins," Balin uttered his opinion. "He's hardly burglar material," Bilbo nodded his head at Balin, showing that he agreed with his point wholeheartedly.

"Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves," Dwalin added, also agreeing with Balin and again the hobbit nodded his head and pointed at the tall dwarf. For what seemed like the umpteenth time that night, the dwarves broke into argument amongst themselves. Amariel noticed that Mithrandir was getting edgy with all this arguing and also that a shadow was starting to grow behind him. Amariel stepped back from the table, preparing for the wizard to scold the company. Sure enough, the shadow washed over the entire room and her friend stood up to his full height.

"Enough!" he bellowed in a powerful voice. "If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!" The room began to fade back into it's original state and the dwarves had silenced, awed and slightly afraid by his outburst. Even after numerous years of knowing him, Amariel still cringed every time Mithrandir would do as he just did. The She-elf spared a glance in Bilbo's direction and saw that he looked quite shocked and rather faint. "Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage. You asked me to find the fifteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mr Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggests, and he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including himself. You must trust me on this," Mithrandir explained, while the dwarves spared curious glances at the hobbit. Amariel caught Bilbo's eye just as Mithrandir's speech ended and gave him, what she hoped to be, a reassuring smile.

"Very well, we will do it your way," Thorin gave in, ignoring the protests of said hobbit. "Give him the contract,"

"Alright, we're off!" said Bofur as Balin stood and handed Thorin the same contract as Mithrandir had given Amariel.

"It's just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth," Balin informed as Thorin stuffed the contract into Bilbo's hands, carelessly.

"Funeral arrangements?" Bilbo repeated faintly, and stepped a few steps back to read the contract. At this moment, Thorin leaned over to Mithrandir.

"I cannot guarantee his safety," he whispered, but Amariel heard nonetheless.

"Understood,"

"Nor will I be responsible for his fate,"

"Agreed," Mithrandir replied after a while with a hint of hesitation. Meanwhile, Bilbo was skimming his chocolate-brown orbs over the parchment and muttering the headings or keywords.

"Terms: Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any. Seems fair. Eh, Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to lacerations ... evisceration … incineration?"

"Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye," Bofur put in, not-so-helpfully.

"Huh," said Bilbo looking a little breathless.

"You alright, laddie?" Balin asked sincerely. Bilbo bent over, looking nauseous and pained, and let out a few short breaths.

"Uh, yeah... Feel a bit faint." Amariel listened to the hobbit with concern and noticed sweat on his forehead. Oh dear.

"Thin furnace with wings," Bofur added again, not helping the situation in the slightest.

"Air, I-I-I-I need air,"

"Flash of light, searing pain, then poof! You're nothing more than a pile of —" Amariel couldn't take it any more, for her sake and Bilbo's.

"Stop!" she shouted, cutting him off, and hurried to Bilbo's side. He breathed heavily, and tried to compose himself. "Bilbo... Bilbo, are you alright?" Amariel asked full of concern as she kneeled next to him. The hobbit gave her a short reassuring look.

"Hmm. Nope," Bilbo muttered feebly before collapsing to the floor in a faint.

"Bilbo!" Amariel shook him lightly but sternly, but he did not wake up.

"Ah, very helpful, Bofur," Mithrandir scolded, and came up to the poor hobbit.

"Will he be alright, Mithrandir?" she mumbled, worried.

"Soon, I expect. He's just a little shaken, is all." he replied. "You mustn't worry, my friend, there's hardly anything wrong with him." Amariel nodded her head, knowing that he was right, picked up the hobbit, finding he was actually quite heavy, and lay him on his sofa.

"Amariel, make him some coffee, he will want a drink when he wakes again," Mithrandir ordered kindly, and the She-elf disappeared into the clean kitchen to prepare Bilbo a mug of steaming coffee to hopefully calm him down. Amariel remembered how she felt when Mithrandir came to visit and persuade her to go on a dangerous quest that included a fire-breathing dragon, and seeing as she had seen super-natural before and Bilbo hadn't, she thought he took it all rather well. She poured the clear transparent water into a lime-coloured mug decorated with paintings of leaves, then swirled in a coffee bag with a silver teaspoon, turning the liquid from clear to light brown in mere seconds. She then left the kitchen holding the mug and found Bilbo awake and sitting in his mellow armchair, staring into space. The She-elf walked up to him, capturing his attention.

"I brought you some coffee; I presume you like it?" she explained, passing him the warm mug. Bilbo shared with her a curt nod, before continuing to stare past her. Amariel felt saddened in the slightest that he hobbit hadn't even thanked her for her kindness, but refused to show it for she knew he had other things to worry about for the time being. Amariel made herself at home on a scarlet rocking chair and let her eyes close. She had travelled far this day and wished to rest for a moment after the ongoing chaos.

Amariel's lapis blue and violet eyes flickered open and she slowly lifted her head from where it had rested on the rocking chair. Glancing up at the old clock on the olive green wall, she found it had been almost two hours since she had fallen asleep. Surely she hadn't slept for that long? Amariel found Bilbo still holding his unfinished coffee mug with both hands as he stared straight at her. Amariel ran a hand through her tangled blonde hair, attempting to straighten it before walking over to where Bilbo sat.

"Are you feeling well?" she concerned, trying to read his facial expression that showed no emotion whatsoever.

"I'll be alright, let me just sit quietly for a moment," he replied vaguely.

"You've been sitting quietly for far too long." A deep voice startled the both of them, but it turned out only to be Mithrandir coming to the pair's side. "Tell me; when did doilies and your mother's dishes become so important to you? I remember a young hobbit who always was running off in search of elves and the woods, who'd stay out late, come home after dark, trailing mud and twigs and fireflies. A young hobbit who would have liked nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire. The world is not in your books and maps; it's out there." he finished wisely. Amariel suppressed a quiet laugh at the uptight and proper Bilbo Baggins being an untidy and adventurous youngster. This did not go unnoticed by Bilbo who gave her a stern look and Mithrandir a glare.

"I can't just go running off into the blue. I am a Baggins of Bag End," he argued, holding up his index finger to prove his point further.

"You are also a Took," Mithrandir was quick to retort, "Did you know that your great, great, great, great uncle, Bullroarer Took, was so large he could ride a real horse?"

"Yes," Bilbo muttered.

"Well he could!" the wizard said sternly, ignoring Bilbo's answer. "In the Battle of Green Fields, he charged the goblin ranks. He swung his club so hard it knocked the Goblin King's head clean off, and it sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit hole. And thus the battle was won, and the game of golf invented at the same time," Amariel rolled her eyes at his last comment.

"I do believe you made that up," accused Bilbo, but he did not say it in an accusing tone, just a tiresome one.

"Well, all good stories deserve embellishment. You'll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you come back," said Mithrandir as he sat in the chair opposite the hobbit. Bilbo sighed, making his forehead crinkle a bit, before looking back at the wizard.

"Can you promise that I will come back?" he said, making Mithrandir pause before answering. Amariel swallowed hardly as he waited for his answer, as it seemed to be aimed at her as well.

"No." he said, staring them both in the eye. "And if you do, you will not be the same,"

"That's what I thought," Bilbo breathed with a faint smile, "I'm sorry, Gandalf, I can't sign this. You've got the wrong hobbit." With that said he stood up and shambled out of the room.

"Is this it, Mithrandir? Will he not come with us?" Amariel asked, staring at the retreating hobbit.

"I do not know for certain. But my heart tells me he will, but all in good time," he replied.

"How did you become so wise?" Amariel teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"That is a long story, my dear," he chuckled.

"Please tell me, Mithrandir," she pleaded him like she was only an elfling.

"All in good time, all in good time," he assured.

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Later, Amariel was met by a low humming as she entered the living room where all the dwarves had gathered. The candles did not light the room up completely, so shadows danced upon his mantelpiece and pictures in the corners, but nor was the room entirely dim. Amariel tightened her indigo cloak around her shoulders, even though the fire was crackling and feasting off rough logs and twigs. She joined Mithrandir who was sitting on a low chair, blowing puffs of smoke from his signature pipe.

"Far over the Misty Mountains cold, To dungeons deep and caverns old," Thorin began to sing in a low rumbling voice, and the others soon stood to join him.

"We must away ere break of day, To find our long forgotten gold. The pines were roaring on the height, The winds were moaning in the night, The fire was red, it flaming spread, The trees like torches blazed with light."

* * *

The dwarves slept on the sofas and chairs that night, snoring consistently, and letting out the odd night time noise. Mithrandir, since he was an old man, was able to find comfort on Bilbo's armchair while Amariel had to do with sleeping on the floor. She didn't really mind it, though, she was used to not having the best night's sleep but she couldn't help but feel a bit rejected by the dwarves. They didn't seem to like her at all, especially Thorin, Kili, and Fili. The She-elf did not remember when her thoughts drifted from her mind and she was able to fall asleep, but she must've done at some time for she was suddenly shaken awake by firm hands.

"Mithrandir," she mumbled upon seeing the old man's wrinkled face bending over her.

"You must get up, my friend, it is time for us to start our journey," he answered. Amariel let a small sigh escape her lips as she reluctantly got to her feet. Outside, dawn had only just broke. The south sky was still dark, but in the north, a mixture of yellow and orange on the horizon could be seen. The clouds were fluffy a pinkish hue. As the sun slowly ascended, the sky in the west became a deep azure blue as the light reached further out.

"Where are the dwarves?" she asked, seeing that there was not one of them in sight.

"They're readying their ponies for the journey and gathering their supplies," Mithrandir informed as Amariel's eyes lit up at the word 'ponies'. She loved and respected all animals, she found them purer of heart than any being.

"Will I be given a horse?"

"You shall, I have already prepared him for you. Now we really must be off,"

"Of course! We wouldn't want to keep the dwarves waiting!" Amariel said with new found energy. She threw her cloak about her shoulders, pulled on her boots, plaited her long curls, and grabbed her satchel before following the wizard out of Bilbo's front door.

The air was cool against Amariel's warm skin, but it was also refreshing. Mithrandir and Amariel walked down the pathways of Hobbiton to where the company's ponies were tacked up and loaded with supplies. But what captured Amariel's full attention was the magnificent creature rearing wildly because of Oin tugging at his reins. He had a sleek pure-white body, a tangled mane and tail, and deep brown eyes that were almost hidden by the whites of his eyes. Almost like she was under a spell, Amariel began to step closer toward the horse, he hand outstretched.

"Step back, elf! This animal is crazy! I don't know how Gandalf was able to tack him up!" Oin yelled, yanking again on the reins. However, the elf did not pay him any mind and continued to walk up to the frantic beast. She placed her hand under his chin so he could sniff it and stood so he could still see her and not become even more frightened. At first, the horse was wary of her but soon slowly nuzzled her hand. His blush-pink nose was warm against her cold hand as she began to gently stroked the horse's cheeks. The horse instantly started to calm; the whites of his eyes disappeared, his ears came forward, and he stood on all four legs with his head bowed.

"That's a good boy," Amariel soothed, still patting him. He let out a soft whinny to show his sudden liking to the elf, making a laugh escape her lips. "You're not crazy, you're just a big softly, aren't you?"

"He has seemed to of taken a great liking to you," Mithrandir complimented, but his face was unreadable.

"What's his name?" she inquired.

"Strictly speaking, he has no name, but the dwarves usually call him 'Dahorak' which means 'Beast' in Dwarvish," he replied, eyeing the horse with interest and uncertainty.

"What a horrid name for such a majestic animal. We will have to change it, won't we, boy?" she said, and the horse nickered in answer. "Very well, you shall be named 'Celeb Cund' or 'Silver Prince' in the common tongue." She beamed at Silver Prince while the wizard behind her blew on his pipe, his eyebrows creased in thought.

"Well, let's see if Silver Prince will let you ride him," he said, urging her to mount the horse. Amariel nodded and in one swift motion hopped onto Silver Prince's sleek back and smiled as the dwarves stared at her with confused expressions, but quickly removed them when they saw she was looking.

"Come on, elf, we don't have all day!" Oin ordered instead and mounted his chestnut Shetland pony. Finally, just as the sun had risen to it's final point, the company left Hobbiton and made their way into the lush forest that lay ahead of them.

"I hope Bilbo comes," Amariel stated, a few minutes into their travel.

"Oh, he will," her friend answered with a smirk lingering on his lips.

"What makes you so sure?" Gloin questioned in an accusing tone, riding up next to the pair. However, Mithrandir didn't have time to answer as a usual dwarf uproar broke out.

"I bet he won't even give us a second thought!" Ori yelled.

"Nonsense, how he would he be able to resist our charm!" shouted Kili.

"I wager twenty pennies that he won't come!"

"I'll match him!"

"Twenty-five! And you've got a deal!" Another dwarf bargained.

"Oi, Gandalf! What'd you say! How about fifteen pennies that he won't come, eh?" asked Dwalin.

"Accepted," the wizard replied without even glancing backwards. A moment later, Fili rode up so he was next to Amariel, which surprised her greatly. Didn't he hate her?

"What's your bet, elf? You've seemed to take a liking to the hobbit," he said. Of course, he'd only come to wager with her, not to apologise or any of that sort!

"Twenty pennies, that Bilbo with come. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Fili said, and trotted back over to his brother. Amariel had never really been one for gambling but this was a little different. Obviously, she didn't have twenty pennies so she was praying for her own sake that the hobbit would come; quite frankly, she did not want to meet an angry dwarf. Suddenly, just as the dwarves were muttering about Bilbo being 'a waste of time' or 'not much use', shouts erupted from behind them.

"Wait! Wait!" the She-elf turned her head, and a smile broke out on her face. Bilbo was running through the chartreuse grass that came up to his knee, waving his contract in the air. Amariel gave a slight squeeze to Silver Prince with her legs, motioning for him to stop. When Bilbo reached the company, he handed Balin the parchment, trying to catch his breath. "I signed it," he pointed out, as Balin examined the contract through spectacles.

"Everything appears to be in order," he smiled. "Welcome, Mr Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield." Immediately, a thought hit Amariel. She still hadn't handed her contract to Thorin. No dwarves had asked for it, perhaps they had forgotten? Subconsciously, she reached into her pocket and felt the sharp corners of the paper, and was about to take it out to give it to the dwarf prince but then paused in her movements. Now was probably not the best time, she hand it to him later at a more suitable time. Most of the company cheered as they welcomed Bilbo, but Thorin, however, did not look too impressed.

"Give him a pony," he ordered, or more like grumbled. Bilbo looked nothing short horrified at the idea.

"No, no, no, no, th-that won't be necessary, thank you, but I-I'm sure I can keep up on foot. I-I've done my fair share of walking holidays, you know. I even got as far as Frogmorton once —" the hobbit is cut off by two dwarves along side him, who picked him up and plonked him on a spare coffee-coloured pony.

A little later, Amariel glanced over at the stiff-looking Bilbo riding uncomfortably on his pony. He held the reins far to high and didn't look relaxed at all; in fact, he looked terrified. Silver Prince nickered softly, wanting my attention to be turned back on him. Amariel giggled quietly and patted his slender neck in a loving gesture. It was strange how quickly and easily the She-e'f had taken a liking to the horse, and vise-versa. Almost suspicious; but she just waved it off and continued to ride with Mithrandir.

"Come on, Nori. Pay up!" ordered Oin, referring to their little bets. Nori grumbled before throwing back a sacks of coins. Other dwarves spoke up and soon money bags were getting thrown around everywhere to their new owners.

"What's that about?" asked Bilbo, riding up to the wizard and herself.

"Oh, they took wagers on whether or not you'd turn up," said Mithrandir. "Most of them bet you wouldn't."

"What did you think?" Mithrandir did not answer but simply made a thoughtful sound. As if on time, a money sack got chucked at Mithrandir by Dwalin. He swiftly caught it and gave it a short throw up into the air, before tucking it into his bag.

"My dear fellow, I never doubted you for a second." Bilbo then turned to me.

"And you?"

"To be truthful, I wasn't certain, but I so did want you to come," replied Amariel, slightly shameful.

"Why did you want me to come?" he questioned, confused.

"You're good company," she said and Bilbo smiled, but then added, "when you're not throwing tantrums." Bilbo gave a curt laugh and sent an apologetic smile her way. Their conversation was soon interrupted by Fili who had just caught up with her.

"Here's the money, elf," he said as if he wished he was not saying it, and stuffed the sack into her hands before trotting off again. Amariel took the sack and put it into her satchel. A moment later, Bilbo sneezed and started to search his pockets.

"Oh, all this horse hair. I'm having a reaction," he complained before shouting urgently. "No, no, wait, wait, stop! We have to turn around!" She wondered what on earth could be wrong? Had he forgotten something important? The entire company halted and wondered or objected to what the problem was.

"What on earth is the matter?" asked Mithrandir.

"I forgot my handkerchief." Amariel resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Here! Use this!" Bofur answered, having teared off some of his unclean coat and chucked it at the bewildered hobbit. Bilbo caught the rag and examined it in utter disgust.

"Move on," ordered Thorin as the dwarves laughed. Amariel lightly squeezed Silver Prince's stomach to urge him forward and he did without complaint.

"You'll have to manage without pocket handkerchiefs and a good many other things, Bilbo Baggins, before we reach our journey's end. You were born to the rolling hills and little rivers of the Shire, but home is now behind you," the wizard said with wisdom, "the world is ahead."

 **Please rate and review!**


	4. Old Tales and Odd Coincidences

**Hello, Fanfiction! I apologize that it has been a long time since I've updated and I'm really sorry about that! But, I just haven't really had much inspiration for this story recently, but I promise I will finish The Unexpected Journey and perhaps all the rest of them as well! Thank you so much for reading this, it means a lot to me! Anyway, here's the chapter, it's quite short, but I hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer:** **I do not own The Hobbit or any of the characters, only Amariel and some insignificant others.**

Chapter Four: Old Tales and Odd Coincidences

APOV

They journeyed across mountains that lay in a great line like a spine across the land. It was as if long ago they were a great beast, who lay down one day and never got up. Perhaps the beast fell into an enchanted sleep, and perhaps its soul was still in there somewhere. The ranges were high from the west and low from the east, curling at the end like a tail. They crossed valleys and hills covered with rugs of trees, green, yellow, scarlet, and orange, but their peaks were enveloped in snow. They travelled far in the first week of their journey; they saw grey, rugged outcrops, waterfalls that drifted like skeins of white lawn, and in fields they could see the amber glint of rivers and the occasional reflective flash of a cobalt lake. The company scarcely stopped and if they did, it would only be for an hour and a half at most. Thorin seemed driven to get to his homeland, making him hard and not the most pleasant to speak to. Amariel kept mostly to herself and Silver Prince who proved to be rather good company and a kind friend. Mithrandir spent the majority of the week riding next to Bilbo, talking and advising him throughout their travel. She felt the slightest bit left out at this, but overall didn't really mind. After all, she was used to it, after spending a large part of her life alone in exile.

All lingering light was obliterated by the rapidly falling night. The once salmon and indigo sky transformed into a vast expanse of onyx-black that engulfed all of the surroundings. A canopy of luminous stars transpired amongst the ocean of blackness. Some were dull, merely flickering into life now and then, but there was an ample amount of shimmering stars to illuminate the dark, eerie night. The faint wind brushed her pale blonde hair into her eyes, resulting her to tuck the loose strands behind her ears every time it occurred. The majority of the dwarves were sound asleep, wrapped up in their blankets, and snoring loudly. Amariel had trouble sleeping; she always did, so sat wide-eyed looking at the landscape before her. They had decided to camp near the edge of a steep cliff, for there was a fair amount of shelter there, and reasonably flat ground. The She-elf found it rather amusing at first to watch as Bombur slept for he sucked in a tiny swarm of insects every time he inhaled and how they flew out again every time he exhaled; but it soon got boring. Thinking that no-one was watching, Bilbo got up, stretched, then crept toward his pony named Myrtle, holding a juicy apple for her to crunch on.

"Hello, girl," he patted Myrtle. "That's a good girl. It's our little secret, Myrtle; you must tell no-one." Amariel resisted the temptation to chuckle at the sweet, friendly hobbit; he really was something. Suddenly, a howl like scream echoed out from the forest on the other side of the cliff, capturing her attention. She knew what had made that horrid noise, as she had heard it many times before, but never wished to hear it again.

"What was that?" asked Bilbo, his words etched with worry and confusion. Amariel glanced over at Kili and Fili who were leaning against a few rocks, wide awake, and listening to Bilbo.

"Orcs," answered Kili in a monotone voice. There was another howling cry, and she noticed Thorin jerk awake.

"Orcs?" questioned Bilbo as he awkwardly made his way over to them.

"Throat-cutters. There'll be dozens of them out there," Fili explained without fret. "The lowlands are crawling with them."

"They strike in the wee small hours, when everyone's asleep," Kili continued for his brother. "Quick and quiet; no screams, just lots of blood." Amariel visibly grimaced. It was in her nature to despise those miserable Orc creatures, more than most people in Middle-earth. Kili noticed her grimace and a smirk came to his face. "What? Scared, are you, elf? I never knew an elf to be afraid of such petty things." He glanced over at his brother and they started to laugh. Before Amariel could send them a good retort, Thorin stood and spoke up.

"You think that's funny? You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?"

"We didn't mean anything by it," Kili tried to reason, obviously feeling guilty.

"No, you didn't," he replied harshly and began to walk away from them. "You know nothing of the world." Amariel studied Thorin as he walked up to the edge of the cliff, and stared over as if recalling powerful memories. As she looked away from him, her gaze lingered on the frightened hobbit, who was trying to take in what they had said.

"Don't mind him, laddie," Balin said, going up to the two dwarves. "Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs. After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got there first."

TPOV

Thorin's mind circled back to the events of the Battle for Moria; the Battle of Azanulbiza. It was not hard as his thoughts were forced there often; too often.

 _Thousands of thousands of dwarves fought blindly but bravely in their iron armour and helmets against the merciless, brutal orcs with all their remaining might; they must defeat the enemy. Screams and cries of anger or agony alike pounded against his ears. Wails and shrieks sent sudden headaches his way, but refused to give in, to give up. He swung his heavy, silver sword with all his strength knocking down orcs, only to be attacked by many more. Thorin's hexagonal shield hammered the orc-scum violently, making sweat plaster onto his exhausted but fierce face._

"Moria had been taken by legions of orcs led by the most vile of their race: Azog the Defiler," retold Balin with sorrowful eyes.

 _He spotted a huge, fearsome-looking herculean orc. The orc was more masculine and taller than any orc Thorin had laid his eyes upon before. He had piercing blue eyes, dark tattoos that covered his face and torso, and was etched all over with battle scars. But the one thing that stood out most about this orc was his skin. The majority of orcs had rough skin that ranged from a sickly green to a dark brown or light peachy colour; but this orc had smooth ghostly skin that was the colour of bone-white. He was a pale orc. The Pale Orc swung his gnarled mace, knocking numerous dwarves off their feet in one go. Fury filled him._

"The giant Gundabad Orc has sworn to wipe out the race of Durin," Balin continued then swallowed. "He began with beheading the king."

 _Thorin watched in despair as his grandfather, rightful king of Erebor, challenged the deadly Azog. He began to shove his way through the battle to get to his grandfather but a mob of orcs crowded his vision with axes or swords. Thorin fought his way through, anger surging through him, but he was too late. Thror's body lay limp on the rocky ground while his shocked head was gripped in Azog's hand. The Pale Orc gave a ear-piercing roar before flinging the head of the king onto the ground which rolled over to Thorin's feet. There were not many words to describe the feeling he felt. But he felt pain, so much pain._

 _"Noooo!" he cried, tears threatening to spill but they were overcome by fury and hatred._

"Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing, taken prisoner, or killed, we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us."

 _The Orcs seemed to multiply in quantity and overpowered the dwarves whom were to few in number to hold up against._

 _"Retreat!" Thorin heard a dwarf yell and beckon for others to follow him with his axe. "Retreat!" But he would not give up so easily; he would fight to the death if need be. He would fight for a homeland, for Moria, for the dwarves... for his grandfather._

"That is when I saw him; a young dwarf prince facing down the Pale Orc."

 _Fire was shooting from Thorin's eyes. As Azog wielded his mace with furious speed, Thorin blocked it with his shield and sword. The force sent his shield flying to the ground, leaving him with little means of protection. Another massive swing, and Thorin was sent hurtling to the rocky ground. His breath staggered, and he tried to reach for his sword but found nothing. He had no weapons; but he would not let the Orc kill him without a fight._

"He stood alone against this terrible foe, his armour rent... wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield," explained Balin.

 _Azog leaped over to destroy Thorin once and for all. The Orc brought down his mace on the dwarf, but Thorin blocked his fatal blow with an oaken branch that he had seen lying on the rocks. Thorin rolled away, escaping another attack from the roaring beast. His blood was boiling and his heart was racing. Every hard blow from Azog sent shock through Thorin's arms, until it was too much and he got thrown down. His entire body ached but he still had strength left deep down. The Pale Orc brought down his mace, but Thorin rolled out of the way and picked up his fallen sword. Azog sent one last attack Thorin's way but before his mace could connect with anything, the dwarf sliced half his arms right off. A agonized bellow echoed throughout the battle field as Azog clutched his stump of an arm in pain._

"Azog the Defiler learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken."

 _The Dwarf Prince watched as the Pale Orc was rushed into the caves of Moria by other orcs._

 _"Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!" shouted Thorin in encouragement as he called for the dwarves to continue their courageous fight. Again, the dwarves and the orcs fought, but the dwarves now had the advantage. Thorin fought ferociously with new found strength, ducking blows and ending the lives of many miserable creatures._

"Our forces rallied, and drove the orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated," Balin then told them sadly. "But there was no feast, no song, that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived."

 _The battlefield was infested with corpses of their kin and orcs, and scarlet blood had stained the rocks. The surviving dwarves clung to each other, weeping over their losses. Thorin walked over to the top of the battle field, still holding the oaken branch, and gazed around at the broken bodies of his kin, his friends. The sunlight became visible from behind a cloud and shone in Thorin's eyes._

"And I thought to myself then, there is one I could follow. There is one I could call king," finished Balin. Thorin turned away from the cliff face and looked solemnly at the now wide awake company who was staring at him in awe. The dwarf prince tried to force his mind away from that dreadful day and onto the quest that lay ahead, not that it would provide any certainty of safety anyway.

"But the Pale Orc?" the trivial hobbit asked, hardening Thorin's features. "What happened to him?"

"He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago." Thorin answered.

APOV

At these words Mithrandir spared her a knowing but worried glance, but the She-elf did not see it, for she was too busy gazing in wonder and sadness at the dwarf prince.

* * *

The weather over the next period of days was not wonderfully inviting at all. Every second, Amariel was getting drenched to the bone with buckets of chilled water. It seemed as if the rain was never going to stop nor even slow! This resulted in the company all being rather grumpy and short-tempered, even including Thorin. Amariel tucked a soaked lock of her silver-blonde hair out of her face as she rode, exhausted, along the slippery forest road. She patted Silver Prince's neck and tried to dry some of the water off his mane but had no such luck, it just kept on coming! Mithrandir rode beside Amariel on his horse, gazing at her with a slight amusement. Amariel, feeling his gaze, spun her head around to look at the wizard.

"What?" she snapped, curtly, her annoyance getting to her. Usually, the elves were peaceful and calm beings, but the She-elf in question was obviously different.

"No need to be angry," he said in an almost tutoring tone. He then carried more sarcastically. "I'm merely enjoying your oh so sweet-natured attitude." She rolled her eyes and squeezed Silver Prince's stomach, urging him to speed up a bit. As Amariel slowed her pace again so she was further away from the wizard, she heard Bilbo trot up to Mithrandir on his chubby pony.

"Here, Mr. Gandalf, can't you do anything about this deluge?" said Dori, miserable.

"It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather, you should find yourself another wizard!" Mithrandir shouted back. This caught Amariel's attention, for a sudden question came to her mind, only to be asked by none other than Bilbo.

"Are there any?"

"What?"

"Other wizards?" he clarified. She dropped back a little to catch her friend's answer. In all her years of knowing him, she'd never thought to ask that obvious question. Well, she did know there was another wizard by the name of Saruman who she had briefly met before, and let's just say, much preferred Mithrandir.

"There are five of us. The greatest of our order is Saruman the White." he answered. Amariel almost scoffed at the word 'great' describing Saruman. It was not that he was weak, no, he had incredibly strong power, but somehow people had come to believe that greatness is only for the chosen few; for the powerful. But the truth was, greatness was for them all. It was not about lowering expectations; it was about raising them for every last one of them. Greatness was not in one special place, nor was it in one special person. Greatness was wherever somebody was trying to find it. "Then there are two Blue wizards;" He paused for a moment and sent a worried look at the She-elf that went unnoticed, and quickly added, "You know, I've quite forgotten their names."

"And who is the fifth?" questioned Bilbo.

"Well, that would be Radagast the Brown,"

"Is he a great wizard, or is he... more like you?" At this remark, Amariel struggled to hold in a laugh. The hobbit had offended Mithrandir without even knowing it! But it was shortly washed away when a gush of water fell directly onto her head, chilling her to no end. However, she found it strange that no other member of the company was as wet as her. Surely, the water hadn't only fell on her... Then it hit her, and she turned to glare coldly at the wizard who had a visible smirk on his face. He quickly hid it and answered Bilbo.

"I think he's a very great wizard, in his own way. He's a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forest lands to the East, and a good thing too, for always evil will look to find a foothold in this world."

RPOV

A stout wizard clothed in ragged brown shawls and who wore leather boots examined a pear green leaf that was moist with dew.

"Not good," he muttered, "not good at all!" He waddled hastily over to a mushroom infestation, trying to ignore the limp animals lying motionlessly on the grass, never to see the sunlight wizard plucked off a mushroom, sniffed it and recoiled in disgust, before stuffing it into his threadbare sack bag. His heart speeding up rapidly, he hurried over to a gnarled tree and felt then tasted the sap leaking from it. Infected. Growing more worried by the second, he gave a short whistled and a bird appeared. The stout wizard took of his hat, making the bird curl up in a nest that was tangled into his knotted hair. Once the bird had landed, he plopped his hat back on and spotted a small mocha-coloured hedgehog struggling uselessly on the ground. The wizard gasped and picked up the dying creature, desperation filling him. Who could've done this? What could've done this? Why?

"Oh no! Sebastian! Good gracious!"

Running through the thick bush, he jumped over fallen tree trunks covered with moss, ducked under wispy branches, side-stepped rocks and stones, until he eventually arrived at his rickety cottage that was moulded into a large tree trunk. It had a thatched straw roof, a few small windows, and a lopsided door that looked as if t could fall off any second. The wizard flung open the door and ran in. Odd objects and strange things clattered the fall, fell from the ceiling, and hung from the walls. The air had become slightly stuffy as he tried to feed the poor hedgehog various types of medicine in a variety of different ways. None worked.

"Move back! Give him some air, for goodness sake!" He ordered desperately as the hedgehogs family crowded around Sebastian. Incantation after medication, he tried to cure the creature but all his attempts failed.

"I don't understand why it's not working; it's not as if it's witchcraft —" He paused and a dark look of understanding came to his face. It was a dark, strange look.

"Witchcraft..." he mused fearfully. "Oh, but it is. A dark and powerful magic." Suddenly, a noise was heard and his head snapped up. Dark shadows could be seen through the windows, crawling up the wizard's walls. His eyes grew as wide as golf balls, and he swallowed a gulp. Buh-boom, buh-boom, buh-boom, went the pumps of his heart. Quickly but silently, he picked up a nearby wooden bench and secured it against the door, blocking it. A slight cough captured his attention. The hedgehog had started to splutter and curl up into a ball. His brown eyes started to water as the body of Sebastian became still. The cottage creaked and groaned as the black creatures crept onto the house, and started to scratch at the roof. He hurried over and grabbed his staff and what looked like an azure stone that had been embedded at the top. As all the mice, birds, and hedgehogs began to leave the cottage or hide, he cradled Sebastian in his arms and whispered a powerful spell while holding the blue stone to his muzzle.

"Lerya laman naiquentallo," he muttered, his eyes closed in concentration. "Sí a hlare ómaquettar." The objects on the ceiling rattled as the creatures dug harder at the roof. "Na coilerya en- vinyanta." A few things rattled and smashed to the floor. "Sí a hlare ómaquettar. Na coilerya en -vinyanta." Black liquid poison sunk into the blue stone from the hedgehog, as the wizard's eyes rolled back and he went into a trance. A huge, black, spindly leg broke through the roof. Suddenly light returned vanquishing the darkness, and Sebastian's eyes fluttered open and the hedgehog gasped for air. The black creatures crawl off the roof and crept back into the forest. The wizard broke out of his trance and looked relieved at the hedgehog in his arms. Running outside, he saw the horrid, giant beasts disappear back into the depths of the woods.

"Where on this good earth did those foul creatures come from?" he uttered to himself. Although it was rather silent now, his mind was buzzing. What were they? Why were they here? How many more helpless animals will they hurt? Where did they come from? A young brown bird tweeted and landed on his shoulder and he conversed with it.

"The old fortress?" he repeated in wonder and worry. "Show me."

The brown wizard darted through the forest on his carved hickory sleigh lead by a team of Rhosgobel Rabbits. As they followed the bird further and further into the forest the gloomier and darker it became. Massive cobwebs were plastered against trees and over spots of the dense canopy. Soon, they came to a halt, and he got out of his sleigh and stared into the distance and saw an old, ruined fortress.

APOV

"We'll camp here for the night," ordered Thorin. "Fili, Kili, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them." The rain had finally stopped, and their travel had become a but more bearable with the sunshine dancing on their faces. Amariel looked around and saw that they were at an old, broken down farmyard that obviously hadn't been occupies for many years.

"A farmer and his family used to live here," informed Mithrandir, confirming Amariel's suspicions.

"Oin, Gloin!" Thorin called, making the two brothers come over to their leader.

"Aye?" asked Gloin.

"Get a fire going."

"Right you are!" Gloin replied, and him and his brother got to work.

"I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the hidden valley," Mithrandir strongly suggested. Amariel sighed and heaved up all of her luggage that she had just placed down on the ground, upon hearing that they would be going soon. But what she heard in reply, was not one she was expecting.

"I have told you already, I will not go near that place!" answered Thorin, glaring over at her. This angered her. She didn't mind so much him insulting her, but he would _not_ insult her people, her friends, her kin.

"Why not? The elves could help us," the wizard said, sticking up for his friend. "We could get food, rest, advice."

"I do not need their advice," Thorin said, making the She-elf's temper rise.

"Excuse me! Who do you think you are talking about! These are my kin, the wisest and fairest of all the three-peoples of Middle-earth! They could help us get into the Lonely Mountain! They could help you reclaim your throne — but no! You will let your pride and reputation prevent you from doing that! Amin feuya ten' lle!" she shouted letting all her annoyance spill. Suddenly, a tree's branch cracked from above them, nearly landing on Thorin. For a moment everyone watched in shock. No-one had seen her get so angry before, even Mithrandir was rather surprised. Thorin looked slightly bewildered for a second before regaining control again.

"Now, you listen to me, elf! You are lucky I am keeping you here in this company, if it was by my own judgement, I wouldn't have given you a second glance, but others persisted. However, anymore of this shouting, at me even more, you will be excluded for this venture! Understand?" he growled. She gave him a curt glare, but decided to return to her normal self.

"Of course, I am very sorry you had to experience my little rant. If you'll excuse me," she apologized, and walked away to sit on a nearby log. Soon, Bilbo came over to join her, looking a little awkward.

"Um, are you alright?" he asked. She turned and gave him a small smile.

"Yes, I just lost control of my temper, is all," she replied honestly. She was still a little shaken by her outburst. Why did she do it? And was that tree branch just a coincidence? It somehow didn't feel like one...

"Oh, well, that's good," he replied. This conversation was rather awkward so Amariel decided to become quiet and listen to Mithrandir and Thorin argue.

"We have a map that we cannot read," urged the wizard. "Lord Elrond could help us."

"Help? A dragon attacks Erebor, what help comes from the elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, the elves looked on and did nothing! You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather, and betrayed my father," argued Thorin, anger and hatred in his eyes. Amariel felt almost sorry for him. He had so much hatred in him, that there was not much room for anything else. It saddened her to see that as it reminded her of what she, herself, had been like a few years before she went into exile.

"You are neither of them. I did not give you that map and key for you to hold onto the past," answered Mithrandir sternly.

"I did not know that they were your to keep," Thorin fired back. At that moment, she noticed Bilbo had went over to tend to a pony with Balin. Seconds later, Mithrandir stomped past her, shaking his head, and muttering something about dwarves and stubbornness.

"Everything alright?" asked Bilbo, watching Mithrandir's retreating form. "Gandalf, where are you going?"

"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense," he huffed in reply.

"Who's that?" Bilbo called after him.

"Myself! Mr Baggins!" answered Mithrandir as he stormed away from the company. "I've had enough of dwarves for one day." A small smile found it's way to Amariel's face. She loved her old friend very much, even if she sometimes could not understand a word he said! She knew he'd be back soon — at least, she hoped.

"Come on, Bombur, we're hungry!" shouted Thorin to the chubby dwarf. The She-elf rolled her eyes, and let her mind wander back to her incident with the broken branch, and couldn't help but wonder what had happened...

 **Please rate and review!**


	5. Three Trolls and A Necklace

**Hello, my fellow Fanfiction! I've finally updated again after what was it? Two weeks? Three? Anyway, here is Chapter Five, and I hope you like it, because it kept on deleting so I had to rewrite it again and again! I quite like this chapter, I think it strays a little from the movie into Amariel's own plot a bit more, and works on her relationship with the other characters, especially Bilbo. So please comment, as I love to hear from you, and please enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer:** **I do not own The Hobbit or any of the characters, only Amariel and some insignificant others.**

Chapter Five: Three Trolls and A Necklace

APOV

Night had washed over the company's camping ground with a dark shade of navy blue merged with indigo. Amariel sat quietly on her log like she had been for the last five hours since the company arrived there. She kept on rewinding the experience with the tree branch in her head. it seemed to mean something, but what? All the dwarves were ignoring her now, probably because of her harsh outburst at their leader, but still, she couldn't help but not regret her words to him; she thought that he needed to hear them. Bilbo was the only one who appeared to be acting ordinarily toward her, and she was happy for that, as the young hobbit had provided rather good company for her. Still, Mithrandir had not returned from his 'walk', and Amariel naturally began to worry about her friend. Usually, she wouldn't mind too much, but he had been gone for a fair amount of time.

"Here's your soup, elf," Oin said, shoving the wooden bowl of soup into her arms. A wave of sadness came over her as she listened to his hostile words. She didn't fully understand why the two races of elves and dwarves disliked each other so much. What had she ever done to them? She nodded her head in thanks, but Oin had already turned away and was walking back to his brother. Amariel swallowed down a spoonful of the soup Bombur had prepared for them, but after another few spoons, she found she wasn't really hungry. Placing her bowl next to her, she overheard Bilbo talking to Bofur.

"He's been a long time," commented the hobbit, trying to sound casual, but Amariel could hear the concern in his voice.

"Who?" Bofur said, without showing any unsettlement at all.

"Gandalf,"

"He's a wizard! He does what he chooses," replied the dwarf easily, then handed Bilbo two bowls of soup. "Here, do us a favour, take this to the lads." She watched as Bilbo accepted the bowls and began to walk away to where Fili and Kili were looking after the ponies. The She-elf sighed, stood up, and began to walk away from the company.

"Oi! Where are you going?" Bofur shouted out. She paused in her footsteps and spun around on her heel.

"I'm going to find my friend, Master dwarf! I shouldn't be long, I hope," I replied, muttering the last part, and went on my way down the chartreuse green slope. As the company's camp fire became only a small flickering flame in the distance, Amariel was surprised to find herself relieved. Dwarves could be entertaining companions, but after a while, Amariel didn't think she could put up with all their hatred and offish behaviour toward her. Finally, she was free, and could breathe in the fresh, cool breeze that played with her blonde locks.

"Now, Mithrandir, where oh where can you be," She muttered, searching her surroundings for any signs of the wizard. Although Amariel had know Mithrandir for many ages, she still felt sometimes that she didn't know him at all; the wizard was not the most predictable of sorts.

After about an hour, Amariel found herself wandering blindly around in the wilderness. She knew that she was not lost, as she could see the faint dot of light coming from the farmstead. On her left was open grass plains, with scattered trees and bushes, and lots of small hills; that was the way Thorin's company had came. However, on he right, there was a thick forest, with more lanky trees there than ground. It reminded Amariel a little bit of her forest that she had lived in for so many years, and, for the first time, she felt a sudden pang of homesickness. Her eyes lingered on the forest for a few minutes before she realized something wasn't right. Something in the forest wasn't right. There was a revolting stench flowing freely from out of the trees—but it wasn't natural, in fact, it was unnatural. Sh decided to head into the forest and investigate the terrible smell. As she entered the dark, cold forest, the smell worsened and she realized that only three creatures could make a smell that bad and those were trolls, orcs, and goblins, and the first one sounded the most probable. But what were trolls doing this far down from the mountains? She then heard hoarse mutterings so began to run toward them. Odd twigs and branches snagged her cheeks and arms as she dashed through the flora. Soon she could hear the noises grow louder and more thuggish, signalling that she had reached her destination. She hid behind a cluster of bushes and listened in to the uncivilized conversation.

"Don't bother cooking them. Let's just sit on them and squash them into jelly!" one of the horrendous-looking beasts said in his gurgled voice. Amariel looked away from the three trolls,, her gaze landing on half the group of dwarves tied up in sacks on the ground, while the other grumbling half were being turned around on a spit over the fire. It looked like they really had gotten themselves into a mess. Amariel would of went in and helped them, but one exiled elf against three fully grown mountain trolls wasn't going to end well. She need Mithrandir, and fast.

"They should be sautéed and grilled with a sprinkle of sage," argued another one of the ruffian beasts.

"Ooh, that does sound quite nice!" The dwarves all began to groan and insult the three trolls loudly.

"Never mind the seasoning; we ain't got all night! Dawn ain't far away, so let's get a move on. I don't fancy being turned to stone!" the last troll complained, making a light come on in Amariel's head, and got her thinking.

"Wait! You're making a terrible mistake!" Bilbo yelled, catching the troll's attention. the hobbit managed to stand up in his sack and hop toward the beasts. "Uh, I meant with the, uh, with, uh, with the seasoning!"

"What about the seasoning?" one of the gruff-voiced trolls asked.

"Well, have you smelt them? You're going to need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up," he answered. Amariel smiled, the hobbit really was clever for trying to buy time. But the other dwarves obviously didn't get what he was doing, so yelled at him, calling him a 'traitor' and all sorts. Perhaps if she could find Mithrandir in time, she could bring him back here and he could perform on of his 'magic tricks' to save the company. Deciding to take the risk, she got out of her hiding place and as soon as she was out of ear-shot from the trolls began to cry out her friend's name.

"Mithrandir! Mithrandir!" she shouted, but no-one answered so she tried again. "Mithrandir! Please come back! Mithrandir!" Her voice had grown quite sore with her shouting so she paused a moment before calling out. "Mithrandir! The dwarves are going to be eaten by trolls! Please," she said the last bit quietly, as hope began to leave her. What was she going to do? Her friend was her only hope. Were all the dwarves going to die, when she could have saved them?

"You called?" the familiar voice of her friend asked. Hope instantly filled her again, as she looked up to see Mithrandir, smiling at her.

"Mithrandir! I was worried about you! Where were you?" I exclaimed, wrapping my arms around him in a hug.

"Well, l suppose you could say I got lost in my own thoughts," he answered. "But what on earth is going on?" His question reminded her quickly of her purpose.

"The dwarves! They are all going to get eaten alive by trolls! We must hurry, or it will be too late to save them!" I said, gesturing for him to follow me.

"Then we mustn't be late," he replied, following my lead through the dense forest. "However, I must ask why you are not with them?"

"I left the camp a few hours ago to go looking for you as you were taking so long. I then smelt an awful stench coming from the forest so decided to look into it and found three trolls ready to roast all of Thorin's company. Bilbo had the brilliant idea of to distract the trolls from eating their 'meal' while I ran off to find you," I explained as we neared our destination.

"Ah, I see," Gandalf commented, as we hid behind the bush and listened to the trolls while waiting for the opportune moment.

"What a load of rubbish! I've eaten plenty with their skins on. Scuff them, I say, boots and all!" one of the trolls yelled.

"`e's right! Nothing wrong with a bit of raw dwarf! Nice and crunchy!" another agreed, picking Bombur up upside down and dangling him over his mouth.

"No—not that one, he—he's infected!" said Bilbo quickly, preventing the troll from eating the panicking dwarf.

"You what?" another troll asked.

"Yeah, he's got worms in his... tubes," lied Bilbo, as the troll holding Bombur threw him hastily back into the pile, a disgusted look on his face. "In—in fact, they all have. They're in—infested with parasites. it's a terrible business, I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't,"

"Parasites? Did he say parasites?!" Oin asked as all the dwarves began an uproar on how they didn't have parasites, ruining Bilbo's plan completely.

"We don't have parasites! You have parasites!" Kili argued.

"What are you talking about, laddie?" Gloin questioned, annoyed. She saw Bilbo roll his eyes as the dwarves insult him. Finally, Thorin, understanding the hobbit's plan, kicked the others, making them, too, understand.

"I've got parasites as big as my arm!" Oin shouted, making all the other dwarves chime in. Amariel had to bite her lips to sustain her laughter.

"Mine are the biggest parasites!" Kili said, desperately. "I have huge parasites!"

"We're riddled!"

"Yes, I'm riddled!"

"Yes, we are! Badly!"

"Well, what would you have us do, then, let 'em all go?!" the biggest troll argued, stomping toward Bilbo.

"Well..." he started but was cut off when the troll pointed his chubby finger at him.

"You think I don't know what you're up to?" he said then told the other two. "This little ferret is taking us for fools!"

"Ferret?" repeated Bilbo.

"Fools?" repeated a troll. Amariel then noticed out of the corner of her eye, that Mithrandir was going to the top of the rocky hill, his staff ready in his hand. The sky had begun to fade into a cerulean blue and smudged pink, signalling that dawn was near. She was quite surprised at how much time had passed.

"The dawn will take you all!" her friend yelled, attracting the troll's attention.

"Who's that?" asked a troll, clueless.

"No idea," the other ferocious beast put in.

"Can we eat 'im too?" the third one asked. Mithrandir wasted no time in striking his twisted wood staff onto the huge boulder in front of him, splitting it in half, and allowing the first rays of dawn to pour through. Amariel quickly came out of her hiding place and watched intently as the sunlight touched the troll's grey skin, turning it, amidst the howling and cries of pain, to solid stone. Within seconds, there was three troll statues frozen in the middle of the opening. The dwarves began to cheer and laugh joyfully, while Bilbo stared in perplexity.

"Oh, get your foot out of my back!" Dwalin groaned, indicating to to them that they'd better hurry up and untie them, or else.

By the time morning had wholly awakened, they had gotten all the dwarves down from the spit, untied from their sacks as well as the ones on the ground, and completely clothes as before they were only wearing their underclothes. Amariel and the wizard walked around the statues, and bumped into Thorin.

"Where did you go to, if I may ask?"

"To look ahead," he answered.

"What brought you back?" asked Thorin, a small, almost invisible smile on his features.

"Looking behind," said Mithrandir. "A nasty business. Still, the are all in one piece." The She-elf listened in while staying far away from the trolls as possible. She had found that she wasn't the most fond a person of them.

"No thanks to your burglar," commented the dwarf prince.

"He had the nous to play for time. None of the rest of you had thought of that," he retorted, then added. "And if our burglar did not do as he did, Amariel may have not reached me in time to rescue you." Thorin nodded, and looked at me oddly, as if he was almost feeling repentant about the words he had said to me, but the expression had soon vanished. Mithrandir rapped his staff against the stone troll thoughtfully.

"They must have come down from the Ettenmoors," said the wizard.

"Since when do mountain trolls venture this far south?" Thorin asked the question Amariel was thinking. There was something about all that was happening that did not feel right.

"Oh, not for an age, not since a darker power ruled these lands." The three of them exchanged a meaningful glance. What powers were strengthening in this part of the land, she did not know, but they couldn't be good. "They could not have moved in daylight,"

"There must be a cave nearby," finished Thorin, looking around for any tunnels in the side of the mountain.

"But, mellon," she started. "Why would there be a cave here? The trolls couldn't of been here long enough to dig an entire cave, it would have to of been here already." The wizard did not answer my question, as we were interrupted by a loud shout.

"Hey! There's something over here! A tunnel by the looks of it!" yelled Ori, pointing at a hole in the mountain.

"A cave," she muttered, as her and the rest of the company hurried over to it.

"Stay behind me," instructed Mithrandir, as he entered the gloomy hole of shadows. As Amariel followed him, she smelt that horrible troll stench again, and started to feel quite dizzy.

"Oh, what's that stench!" complained Dori with good reason, pinching his nose.

"It's a troll hoard," said the wizard. "Be careful what you touch." When they reached the bottom area of the cave, Amariel began to cough with the smell along with at least a dozen of the other dwarves. The hoard was piled with gold. Mounds of gold coins in caskets and chests, scattered gold trinkets, golden chalices and cups, gold drums, and gold jewellery. However, everything was covered with large, sticky cobwebs, and was plastered with dirt and dust. While Bofur and Gloin started to dig up the priceless treasures and Fili and Kili were trying on jewelled crowns, the She-elf's attention was caught by an intricate, beyond beautiful necklace. Slowly, she bent down, picked it up gently in her fingers, brushed off most of the cobwebs, and studied it carefully. It was wide in width, made out of tiny, styled, pure gold nuggets, with every now and then a small ruby showing through. Hanging off the middle of the necklace was a stunning, crimson red ruby outline with gold and diamonds, and hanging from that was a half-a-finger length golden chain. It was alluring, and she couldn't seem to take her eyes off it, it was like the necklace was calling to her; singing to her. Absentmindedly, she reached out her finger and stroked the ruby in the middle. She hooked the necklace around her neck, and closed her eyes in pleasure as the cold metal touched her skin.

"That is quite some necklace, you've got there," a voice said, jolting Amariel's eyelids open. It was Mithrandir.

"Um, uh," she mumbled, awkwardly.

"Very nice, indeed," he said. "Where did you find it?" She pointed to the chest that'd she had picked it up from, and watched as her friend's eyes grew wide for only a second as he saw the emblem on the chest. It was the silhouette of a bird in flight, on one side there was the moon and on the other there was a star. The emblem seemed faintly familiar but she couldn't remember where she had seen it before. When she looked up, Mithrandir's face was no longer in shock but in it's usual state. "Yes, very nice indeed..." He then walked off to where Thorin was drawing out two ancient swords, covered with cobwebs. Remembering to ask Mithrandir about the emblem later, she too walked over to Thorin.

"These swords were not made by any troll," he marvelled, twirling the sheathed swords in his hands. Thorin handed one to Mithrandir who examined it carefully, before unsheathing it a few inches.

"Nor were they made by any smith amongst men," the wizard pointed out, making a small smile grace her lips. She could have recognized these swords anywhere.

"These swords were forged by my kin," she admired, "In Gondolin by the High Elves of the First Age." Hearing this, Thorin immediately started to jam his sword back into where it came from in disgust.

"You could not wish for a finer blade," added Mithrandir sharply. Reluctantly, Thorin held onto the blade, and unsheathed it a little to get a better look at it. The dwarf prince then sheathed the sword again and walked over to where loin, Nori, and Bofur were making a 'long-term deposit' while Dwalin looked at them in disgust.

"Let's get out of this foul place," said Thorin. "Come on, let's go. Bofur! Gloin! Nori!" Amariel wasted no time in leaving the vile cave, following the rest of the company back into the sunshine, not noticing that the wizard had stayed behind. She walked over to where Bilbo was examining the few items he had collected.

"That well done back there with the trolls," she started, catching the hobbit's attention.

"Pardon?"

"What you did back then, buying time, it was a smart idea," she repeated, making a faint flush appear on Bilbo's cheeks.

"Uh, well, um, thanks. But without you alerting Gandalf so quickly, I don't think I could've distracted them for much longer," he stuttered, humbly.

"Bilbo!" Mithrandir called, and wizard came over to him, making them curious.

"Hmm?" Bilbo answered. Mithrandir presented him with a small, well-carved elvish blade, that looked as if it had been polished up a bit.

"Here, this is about your size,"

"I can't take this," said Bilbo finally after examining the sword.

"The blade is of Elvish make which means it will glow blue when orcs or goblins are nearby," insisted the wizard. The sword he was giving the hobbit could be of great use, why ever was he not accepting it?

"I have—I have never used a sword in my life," he replied, clearly nervous, and Amariel couldn't help but feel sorry for him. This was all new to him, he had never done anything like it before, at least she had experienced things like this, even if it was a long time ago.

"And I hope you never have to. But if you do, remember this: true courage is about knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one," advised Mithrandir wisely, his words echoing in her head. But her moment of tranquillity was lost when the gruff voice of Thorin shouted out.

"Something's coming!"

"Gandalf—" the hobbit began but was cut off by Mithrandir addressing everyone.

"Stay together! Hurry now! Arm yourselves!" Amariel followed his instructions and unsheathed her plain-looking sword. The blade was silver, and the handle and the tang were a pewter grey. Bilbo and her both ran over to where the rest of the company was. Suddenly, a sleigh pulled by what looked like big rabbits and which held a stout old man raced through the opening and stopped in front of them. The man had knotted, bird-pooped, brown hair and a little hat, a wooden staff, wore sack-like brown clothes, and two pointy boots.

"Thieves! Fire! Murder!" he shouted, frightening the majority of them.

"Radagast! Radagast the Brown. Ah, what on earth are you doing here?" said the wizard, clearly the two of them had met sometime in the past. But wasn't Radagast the brown wizard Mithrandir was talking about earlier in their travels, the one that preferred the company of animals over people? He certainly fitted the description. "I was looking for you, Gandalf. Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong!" exclaimed Radagast.

"Yes?" he urged. Radagast opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, and opened it again. It appeared that the wizard had forgotten what he was going to say. The She-elf couldn't help feeling that the stout man was a little more than queer.

"Oh, just give me a minute. Um, oh, I had a thought and now I've lost it," the brown wizard looked irritated. "It was, it was right there, on the tip of my tongue!" Radagast slowly poked his pink tongue out in realization. "Oh, it's not a thought at all; it's a silly old..." He uncurled his tongue, revealing a lanky, brown insect, that Mithrandir picked up with the top of his fingers, and dropped it into his old friend's hand. "...Stick insect." A few dwarves, Bilbo, and Amariel recoiled slightly in disgust. The pair of wizards then walked over to a private spot away from the company to continue on their conversation. Amariel only caught a couple of odd words like: Greenwood, sick, darkness, decay, webs, spiders, Dol Guldur, and Necromancer. All of the words confused her, but by the sounds of it, the Greenwood was sick with decay, and gigantic spiders were leaving webs everywhere, and were coming from the old fortress of Dol Guldur that had been abandoned for numerous years, and there, there was a Necromancer that could summon the dead. The thought did not sound pleasant, making Amariel fidget with worry. She had known that something wasn't quite right, that there was some unnatural power growing in Middle-earth. Bilbo, seeing her concerned expression, came up to her.

"Are you alright? You look worried,"

"I'm fine," she lied; it was better that the hobbit didn't know the evil that was growing in this world just yet, it would bring him no benefits at all.

"Are you sure? If you need to talk, I mean, I'm always here," he said kindly, making a smile light her features. It was good to have friends in this time of shadow, especially ones pure of heart, ones that could lighten you mood even in the darkest of hours. She ruffled Bilbo's head, making his face flush rouge.

"You're a good friend, Bilbo," she said truthfully.

"So are you, I didn't really have many friends before this journey," he revealed, shamefully at the last part.

"Well, now you do," replied Amariel, giving him a brief hug. Usually, the She-elf wasn't a very physical person, but around her friends that changed. Suddenly, a howl erupted in the distance. He heart beat quickened, those could only be one thing: Warg-scouts. An orc-pack was near.

"Was that a wolf?" Bilbo asked, his eyes alert. "Are there—are there wolves out there?"

"Wolves?" Bofur repeated, looking perturbed. "No, that is not a wolf."

"Bilbo! Quick, draw your sword!" she ordered to the hobbit, and he did what he was told. The sword was glowing a strong blue, and at that moment it was the worst colour she could imagine. The hobbit looked at her, distressed. An echoing roar made them spin around, only to see a ginormous warg, claws outstretched and teeth bared, pounding toward them. Acting quickly, Amariel shoved Bilbo out of the way, before unsheathing her sword, ready for an attack. Thorin cut the beast's throat with his blade, Orcrist, and it slumped to the ground. Another ear-echoing roar was heard, and a warg appeared behind them, ready to pounce. Kili shot an arrow at it with his bow, making it tumble to the ground, but it got up again. Luckily, Dwalin smashed it on the head with his axe, killing it. How did the orcs know we were here?

"Warg-scouts!" Thorin proclaimed, withdrew his sword from the warg's throat. "Which means an Orc pack is not far behind!"

"Orc-pack?" Bilbo repeated in shock.

"Don't worry," she muttered to him." Just stay with me,"

"Who did you tell about your quest, beyond your kin?" interrogated Mithrandir to Thorin.

"No-one,"

"Who did you tell?" the wizard asked, more loudly and harshly.

"No-one, I swear," he added. "What in Durin's name is going on?"

"You are being hunted," answered Mithrandir solemnly. Amariel restrained herself from kicking a tree in frustration. Now they were being hunted, their quest would be a lot more complicated, and far more dangerous.

"We have to get out of here," Dwalin said.

"We can't!" Ori cried, exasperated, appearing from checking on the animals. "We have no ponies; they bolted!" What?! she wanted to yell. If they had no more ponies, there was hardly even the slightest chance of them outrunning the orcs; it was simply not done. But what of Silver Prince? Was he alright? Would he come back? Questions flooded her mind, but she tried to silence them and stay calm.

"I'll draw them off," volunteered Radagast. Was he out of his mind? Those creatures would catch him!

"These are Gundabad wargs! They will outrun you!" Mithrandir shook his head slightly, obviously having the same thoughts as Amariel.

"These are Rhosgobel rabbits!" the stout wizard retorted, his eyes growing serious. "I'd like to see them try!"

 **Please rate and review!**


	6. Moon Runes and Many Meetings

**Hello, everyone, I'm back again! I've started to update a bit quicker as I have had a rush of inspiration towards this story. I actually don't really like this chapter, but I have s few exciting things planned for the next one! I just want to say a quick thank you to everyone who has been following this story so far, and especially the people have helped by giving me ideas and comments on it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer:** **I do not own The Hobbit or any of the characters, only Amariel and some insignificant others.**

Chapter Six: Moon Runes and Many Meetings

APOV

Howls roamed the air on the outskirts of the forest, only fifty feet away from Amariel and the company were. Although the sky was cerulean and the sun was shining like a golden globe, there was a darkness in the air and a dreadful odour. Radagast hopped onto his sleigh and urged his rabbits forward at a great speed, and raced out of the forest. Mithrandir nodded at the company and they all followed him carefully out of the forest and behind a huge boulder. The She-elf watched as the brown wizard grew further and further away, dozens of wargs and orc riders dangerously on his tail. She muttered a silent prayer that he would be alright. Even if he was extremely peculiar, he still volunteered to draw their hunters off, relieving them of a great deal of trouble.

"Come on," the grey wizard ordered and started to run down the dry, grass slope. Bilbo and her exchanged a curt look of concern before them and the rest of the dwarves followed Mithrandir. The terrain was rough and uneven, but with Amariel's elf abilities she was able to remain at her usual speed. Her heart pounded at every harrowing howl that consumed the air. She strongly detested orcs, it was natural for elves beyond any other species after all. Amariel had never hated anyone or anything in her life, but orcs were always fiddling with that record. Without warning, Thorin halted, seeing the warg pack dart past only yards in front of them. Attempting to swallow her fright, she turned to her old friend.

"Mithrandir," she muttered urgently, willing for him to do something.

"Stay together!" he finally called, and directed them forward again.

"Move!" Thorin urged loudly, pushing them onward. They dashed over the plains so fast that some of them wanted to fall over, but she willed them not to. As they were passing another graphite grey boulder, the dwarf prince paused hastily, pulling back Ori when he began to run from out of their hiding place.

"Ori, no! Comeback!" he called, and the young dwarf quickly backed back behind the rock. Hopefully, the warg hadn't seen him, or all their lives could be in more danger than they already were. After checking it was clear, Mithrandir beckoned the dwarves to carry on.

"Come on! Quick!" Amariel stayed just in time for Thorin to question the wizard.

"Where are you leading us?" It was a question, she had been to occupied and anxious to think about, but now he brought it up, she did wonder about it too. However, Mithrandir did not answer; he obviously didn't want Thorin to know and argue with him. But why wouldn't he tell him? She looked back at the forest and realized that it looked more familiar from far away. It looked exactly like the forest of Trollshaws, but that meant there was only one close civilization that they could make to in their short time, and that was—no, Mithrandir wouldn't risk going there with this quest, especially not with a company of dwarves!  
As Radagast and the line of ferocious orcs came into sight again, the company darted behind another particularly large outcropping, and pressed their bodies against it. The thumps of footsteps were heard from above them, making Amariel hold her breath, bite her bottom lip, and half close her eyes. Her hand inched slowly toward her sword just in case. The She-elf heard the foul creature sniff at the air and unsheathe his blade. Suddenly, Kili stepped out from the outcropping, arrow ready to fire, and shot at the orc's warg, sending tumbling to the ground, whimpering as it did so. The rider got off his limp beast and charged at them, roaring. Dwalin kicked him down and sliced his head with an axe, making him scream in pain. As the beast stood up again, Bifur hit it on the head with his weapon, and it fell silent. But Amariel felt far from relieved, for the orc-pack had also grown silent. They had heard the fight, and sensed where the company was. Now an entire orc pack was going to come after them. She shook her head, wondering how on earth they were going to survive this. The howls erupted again, and the chase began.

"Move!" cried Mithrandir. "Run!" And the company wasted no time obeying his orders. The ground blurred below her as she felt a surge of adrenaline. The quickening thumps of her footsteps echoed in her ears, merging with the barking behind her, and she felt a bead of sweat roll down her forehead. The She-elf stumbled occasionally on the rocks that littered her path. Her blonde hair flew out like a rushing river, and her throat ached for more air. But no matter how fast she ran, the wargs still caught up, chasing them like a lion chases it's prey. And she supposed that's what they were; prey.

"There they are!" yelled Gloin, turning everyone's attention toward them.

"This way! Quickly!" Mithrandir shouted, as the company began to run again, though their legs were noticeably tiring. The savage animals started to close in around them, growling, snarling, and baring their rotten teeth. Now the orcs were closer, she had moments to examine their vile features. They were medium in stature and humanoid in common shape. They were hunched, mostly broad, flat-nosed, sallow or green-skinned, bow-legged, with wide mouths which had no lips, and slanted eyes ranging from a yellow and blood red to black, lanky arms, and unclean fangs. Some of them were almost as tall as herself while other's were little higher than Bilbo.

"There's more coming!" shouted Kili. He spoke true, many wargs appeared in every direction, waiting to attack.

"Kili!" yelled Thorin. "Shoot them!"

"We're surrounded!" Fili informed, as Amariel readied her sword in her hand.

"Bilbo!" called Amariel, gesturing for the frightened and bewildered hobbit to come over. "Remember, stay behind me and you'll be alright, I promise." She willed herself that it was a promise she could keep. She forced Bilbo a reassuring smile and he attempted to send her one back, but it looked more like a grimace. Kili shot at the warg riders, killing a few of them.

"Where is Gandalf?" asked Kili urgently. Amariel looked around frantically, finding that his words spoke truth. Where was he? Even if he was a wizard he couldn't of disappeared that quickly.

"He's abandoned us!" answered Dwalin, jumping to conclusions. She wanted to throw a retort at him to stick up for her friend, but realized that this obviously wasn't the best of times to do it. The dwarves, and Amariel and Bilbo backed away as the leader of the orcs and his followers edged in, hissing and licking their invisible lips. She felt Bilbo's hand grab hold of hers in fright, so she squeezed it gently as a comforting notion, although the situation was far from comforting. Ori shot a stone from his slingshot at the oncoming warg, but it did nothing but annoy it.

"Hold your ground," demanded Thorin, unsheathing his blade. Amariel couldn't help but feel that all hope was failing them.

"This way, you fools!" shouted the familiar voice of their salvation. She spun her head around and saw Mithrandir's head poking out from behind a outcropping before it disappeared again.

"Come on, move!" Thorin ordered, heading toward where the wizard had been. "Quickly! All of you!" Amariel pulled Bilbo with her as she approached Thorin. A she neared, she saw a narrow, dark tunnel, that lead under the ground.

"Go, go, go!" Thorin urged. After Bilbo had slid in, Amariel followed, landing roughly on the dusty ground.

"Six, seven," Mithrandir counted them off as they came in. Amariel tried to rid her clothes, skin, and hair of the dust and dirt she had acquired with her landing, but had little success. "Nine, ten," the wizard muttered as two other dwarves slid down. Soon, Thorin jumped in, followed shortly by Kili. But what were they to do now? Would the orcs not just follow them in here? Suddenly, a horn sounded and a stampede of hooves echoed from above them. Amariel breathed out a sigh of relief when she heard the horn. They were safe; at least for the time being. Orc screams and wails of agony invaded the air. A fallen orc rolled limply into the cave, a blue arrow sticking out from his chest. Thorin leaned over, tugged the arrow out, and examined it.

"Elves," he muttered sourly, sending the arrow clattering to the ground. Amariel clenched her fists and gritted her teeth but did not show it. This dwarf was showing absolutely no respect to her kin, even when they were the ones who saved them.

"Excuse me, but it was elves, not dwarves or men, that saved our lives today. If it were not for their aid, we would all be exactly like this orc," she argued, pointing at the dead monster on the ground!" she argued, her temper getting the better of her.

"Silence, elf! And watch your tongue!" the dwarf spat, and if looks could kill, she'd be dead.

"I cannot see where the pathway leads. Do we follow it, or no?" asked Dwalin. She cast her eyes over to where he was, noticing for the first time that there was a hidden passageway.

"Follow it, of course," responded Bofur immediately, and the company started to follow the pathway.

"I think that would be wise," said Mithrandir, and walked alongside Bilbo and Amariel. The path was narrow, two walls of rock either side with a crack between them above which shone through a line of light.

"Gandalf?" Bilbo questioned. "Where are we?"

"You can feel it?" asked the wizard, leaving Amariel clueless. What were they talking about? Everything felt normal to her.

"Yes, it—it feels like...well, like magic," the hobbit replied.

"That's exactly what it is," said Mithrandir. "A very powerful magic."

"There is light ahead," a dwarf commented, making the company speed up slightly at the news they were reaching a opening. One by one the dwarves stood still in utter awe and amazement as a prepossessing kingdom came into view: Rivendell. Amariel let out a breath of gratitude and let the sweet, fresh air wander up her nose. Rivendell was a peaceful kingdom of silent beauty which was situated west of the Misty Mountains. The palace had many towers and balconies and towered over the gushing streams and gardens below. The sun's rays shone proudly over the palace, lending it a warm glow. Autumn leaves danced around gently in the slight breeze over the polished stone steps and pebbled pathways.

"The Valley of Imraldis. In the Common Tongue, it's known by a another name," explained Mithrandir.

"Rivendell," marvelled Bilbo, his mouth almost hanging open.

"Here lies the last Homely House east of the sea," continued the wizard, as the dwarves slowly snapped out of their trances.

"This was your plan all along, to seek refuge with our enemy," accused Thorin. What was he talking about? The elves here were the enemies of no-one but darkness. The elves of Rivendell were wise and respectable and would supply them with what they needed for a short stay.

"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill- will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself," retorted Mithrandir.

"Do you think the elves will give our quest his blessing?" asked Thorin scornfully. "They will try to stop us!"

"Of course they will. But we have questions that need to be answered," said Mithrandir, making Thorin sigh in defeat. "If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact and respect and no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to me and Amariel." She smiled at the thought of seeing her kin for the first time in ages, would they be pleased to see her again? The company started down the path leading into the stunning city. Everyone was silent as they walked, either still in awe or wondering how the elves would react to them. Eventually, they crossed a short bridge above a azure river, and entered the heart of the kingdom, and also the entrance to the palace. Glancing around, she saw that Bilbo was staring in amazement at the magnificent architecture and carefully-made statues, while the dwarves looked uneasy. A familiar brown-haired elf cloaked in maroon walked gracefully down the steps toward the group.

"Mithrandir," he greeted.

"Ah, Lindir," replied the grey wizard warmly. The dwarves began to murmur among themselves in distrust about the dark-haired elf.

"Amariel?" Lindir asked. She nodded her head, smiling at her friend. "Forgive me if I am mistaken, but were you not in exile?"

"I was," she started, not sure of grow to put it. "But I decided to give my former life another chance."

"Lastannem i athrannedh i Vruinen," continued Lindir.

"I must speak with Lord Elrond," requested Mithrandir.

"My Lord Elrond is not here," answered Lindir.

"But where is he then? We simply must talk to him," insisted Amariel. Suddenly, the elvish horn sounded behind them, resulting in the company spinning around to see band of armed horsemen approaching the bridge at a rapid rate.

"Ifridî bekâr!" yelled Thorin, as the dwarves bunch together in a tight circle, their weapons pointing outward. Bofur pushed Bilbo into the centre of their tight circle as to protect him, but he needn't of needed of done that, there was nothing to be protected from. "Hold ranks!" The elf-rider rode in circles around the nervous dwarves until finally stopping.

"Gandalf," said one of the riders who turned out to be Lord Elrond himself. He had long brown hair that fell into to braids in the front, arched eyebrows, carob-coloured eyes, and a pale complexion. He had a penchant for dressing in draping robes of gold or violet and near knee length leather boots, but at the moment he wore polished silver armour.

"Lord Elrond, Mellonnen! Mo evínedh?" asked Mithrandir, bowing slightly.

"Farannem 'lamhoth i udul o charad. Dagannem rim na Iant Vedui," explained Elrond, and he dismounted his horse with a coat so black that it could challenge the night sky. Amariel watched quietly as the two of them shared a curt hug.

"Lord Elrond," she greeted eventually, catching the lord's attention. "Ha na pleasing na see cin ad."

"Amariel? Nin, cin gar- grown in i vedui few hundreds o ennin i im gar- ú- seen cin. Welcome back, mellon," he relied, giving her a hug. Amariel had visited Rivendell more than once in her younger days, and had grown very fond of Lord Elrond, and respected him greatly. And although she always use to cause him a lot of trouble, he never rose his temper at her once; it was almost like he was amused at her actions. "Cin are ú- bringing trast- hi, im estel?" Amariel smiled shamefully and let out a brief laugh, causing everyone to give the pair odd looks.

"Strange for Orcs to come so close to our borders. Something, or someone, has drawn them near," Elrond said, returning to his former conversation with Mithrandir.

"Ah, that may have been us," he admitted. At this moment, Thorin stepped forward, still holding his axe.

"Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain," Elrond acknowledged.

"I do not believe we have met," said Thorin coldly. Amariel willed that the dwarf prince would not say anything rude to her elvish friends.

"You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled under the Mountain," commented the Lord of Rivendell.

"Indeed? He made no mention of you," retorted Thorin disdainfully, making Amariel throw glares at him, but he ignored them all. Ignoring the insult, Elrond turned to the dwarves and spoke in Sindarin.

"Nartho i noer, toltho i viruvor. Boe i annam vann a nethail vin." Evidently, the dwarves did not understand a word he was saying, so took it as an offence.

"What is he saying? Does he offer us insult?" questioned Gloin, and his kin grew bellicose and gripped their weapons uneasily. Amariel shook her head and sighed.

"No, Master Gloin, he is offering you food," said Mithrandir, quite exasperated. The dwarves huddled together and quickly discussed how to answer. But the She-elf already knew what their answer would be, even if it was their 'enemies' offering them food, food always won over in the end.

"Ah, well, in that case, lead on," Gloin proclaimed, as the rest mumbled their agreements. Amariel rolled her eyes, wondering how that night would turn out.

Nighttime falls like a ebony curtain, leaving no traces of sunlight. The night was so pure and cold that even death couldn't cause it any harm. Embedded into it, twinkled pure crystalline stars, like someone had gone and carefully planted each and every diamond so they could all just admire their stunning natural beauty. But the heavy, storm-clouds in the distance, and thick air was drenched with the promise of rain. Amariel had always loved gazing out into the darkened sky embroidered with starlight. Starlight was her most beloved light, it always seemed to remind her that there was light even in the darkest of places. A harp and light singing could be heard from the balcony where Amariel leaned over.

"Ngîl cennin eriel vi, Menel aduial, Glingant sui mîr, Síliel mae, Ngîl cennin firiel vi, Menel aduial, Dúr, dúr i fuin, Naenol mae, An i ú nathant, An i naun ului, A chuil, anann cuiannen, A meleth, perónen," she sang beautifully into the chilly breeze.

"That was beautiful," said a melodic voice, coming from behind her. She turned around to see a She-elf of great beauty; she had flowing dark hair that tumbled down her back like a waterfall, gentle sapphire eyes, full crimson lips, and perfect pale skin. She wore a indigo dress that complimented her stunning figure and an elven silver tiara.

"Thank you," replied Amariel, a little embarrassed that someone had heard her sing. She hadn't thought she was very good at singing.

"My name is Arwen," spoke the lady gently. "What is yours?"

"Amariel," she replied, curious about this mystery elf. "But if you don't mind me asking, who are you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I am Lord Elrond's daughter. I heard that a wizard, a hobbit, an elf, and thirteen dwarves arrived in our city earlier this day, are you the elf?" she asked, eagerly, and Amariel nodded slowly.

"Well, it was wonderful to meet you, Arwen, but I must head to the feast. It has probably already began," she said. Arwen looked disappointed at this news for a moment before smiling again.

"The pleasure was all mine. I am sorry for keeping you, and I hope to see you again soon," Arwen farewelled as Amariel headed toward the room where the feast was held. Amariel waved over her shoulder and disappeared behind the corner. All the dwarves had already arrived and were picking cautiously at their plates of vegetables, while Mithrandir and Lord Elrond had just taken their seats. Amariel walked quietly over to a spare seat next to Bilbo and sat down. The table was stacked with all sorts of elvish dishes with candles between them. As she helped herself to the salad and lembas bread, she heard the gentle melody of a flute and couldn't help but feel at home. Glancing around at the dwarves, she noticed that Kili had been staring and just winked at one of the She-elves playing the harp. Amariel felt quite annoyed at that. Why had he taken such a rapid liking toward the Rivendell elves and not her? She didn't think she had done anything wrong. Was it because of their hospitality? Wasn't there a saying that food always won over a man's heart? But as Kili turned his head back, he saw Dwalin glaring at him, and his smile quickly faded.

"Can't say I fancy elf maids myself; too thin," he said, and glanced over at Amariel. "They're all high cheekbones and creamy skin, not enough facial hair for me." At that moment, a handsome elf drifted by, playing a small harp, and Kili added, "Although, that one there's not too bad."

"That's not an elf maid," Dwalin informed, making Amariel bite her lip hard, so not to laugh. Kili quickly turned to look at him, shock plastered onto his face. Dwalin winked, and all the dwarves laughed at Kili's expression, even Amariel joined in quietly, not able to suppress her laughter any longer.

"That's funny," said the embarrassed Kili, as Bofur leaned on his shoulder, almost falling off his chair with laughter.

A little later, Elrond was examining the swords they had collected in the troll hoard.

"This is Orcrist, the Goblin Cleaver," declared Elrond, holding Thorin's elvish blade. "A famous blade, forged by the High Elves of the West, my kin. May it serve you well." He handed it back to the dwarf who accepted it with a nod. The Lord then began to examine Mithrandir's sword carefully, twirling it slowly in his fingertips.

"And this is Glamdring, the Foe hammer, sword of the King of Gondolin. These swords were made for the goblin wars of the First Age."

"I wouldn't bother, laddie," she heard Balin say, and turned to see Bilbo unsheathing his small blade. "Swords are named for the great deeds they do in war,"

"What are you saying, my sword hasn't seen battle?" queried the hobbit, a little affronted.

"I'm not actually sure it is a sword; more of a letter opener, really," answered Balin, but Amariel disagreed, it was small for a sword, there was no arguing that, but it was far from a letter-opener as well.

"How did you come by these?" Lord Elrond asked.

"We found them in a troll hoard on the Great East Road, shortly before we were ambushed by orcs," retold Mithrandir, chewing on a pastry roll. Amariel could feel this was going somewhere, they didn't want it to go.

"And what were you doing on the Great East Road?" he persisted. No-one answered this, and Thorin became rather perturbed.

"Excuse me," he said, pushed out his chair, and left the feast.

"Thirteen dwarves, a halfling, and an elf, hmm," the Lord continued, taking a sip from his goblet of wine. "Strange travelling companions, Gandalf,"

"These are the descendants of the House of Durin," Mithrandir explained. "They're noble, decent folk. And they're surprisingly cultured. They've got a deep love of the arts." Without warning, Bofur jumped onto the low table and began to sing in their merry tone.

"There's... an... inn, there's an inn, there's a merry old inn. Beneath an old gray hill." The dwarves started to bang their fists on the table in tune with the song. "And there they brew a beer so brown, the man in the moon himself came down and to drink his fill." They were all quite out of time, gruff, and random so she could barely make out the words. "Oh, the ostler had a tipsy cat, that played the five-stringed fiddle. And up and down he saws his bow, now squeaking high... now purring low." Food started to fly everywhere as Bofur danced all over it. "Now sawing in the middle. So, the cat and the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle, a drink that'll wake the dead. He squeaked and he sawed and he quickened the tune, and the landlord shook the man in the moon. 'It's after three!' he said!" And with that, the song finished, and the dwarves threw food all over the ground and into the air, leaving all the elves with disturbed faces.

* * *

"Our business is no concern of elves," said Thorin, as him, Mithrandir, Elrond, Balin, Bilbo, and Amariel walked through one of the many hallways of the palace.

"For goodness sake, Thorin, show him the map!" demanded Mithrandir.

"It is the legacy of my people; it is mine to protect, as are its secrets," continued Thorin, mulishly.

"Save me from the stubbornness of Dwarves," muttered the wizard. "Your pride will be your downfall. You stand here in the presence of one of the few in Middle- earth who can read that map. Show it to Lord Elrond!" Elrond looked expectantly at the dwarf who seemed to be in thought. Finally, Thorin reached for the map and was about to hand it to the Lord when Balin stopped him.

"Thorin, no!" But he brushed Balin's hand aside and gave it to Elrond who unfolded it and silently skimmed over it.

"Erebor. What is your interest in this map?" Thorin was about to answer when Mithrandir beat him to it.

"It's mainly academic. As you know, this sort of artifact sometimes contains hidden text. You still read Ancient Dwarvish, do you not?" Elrond walked away a bit, looking at the map, and as the moonlight, which was shining through a high window, hit the map, he realized something.

"Cirth Ithil," he muttered.

"Moon runes? Of course. An easy thing to miss," the wizard smiled in understatement.

"Well in this case, that is true; moon runes can only be read by the light of a moon of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written," Elrond explained.

"Can you read them?" asked Thorin.

Elrond lead them up to an open area outside, on the side of a cliff. A rippling waterfall was surging over them, falling with white splashes into the cool water below.

"These runes were written on a Midsummer's Eve by the light of a crescent moon nearly two hundred years ago," he said, leading them toward a round crystal table on the edge of the cliff. "It would seem you were meant to come to Rivendell. Fate is with you, Thorin Oakenshield; the same moon shines upon us tonight." Amariel looked up and saw that the dense clouds that were covering the moon were floating away, making the moon's ray's of light shimmer down onto them. Elrond lay the map on the table, and as the light flowed onto it, bright blue ancient runes became visible, and he began to translate them. "Stand by the gray stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole." Amariel took all the information in, determined to remember it.

"Durin's Day?" Bilbo asked.

"It is the start of the dwarves' new year, when the last moon of autumn and the first sun of winter appear in the sky together," informed Mithrandir.

"This is ill news," said Thorin. "Summer is passing. Durin's Day will soon be upon us."

"But that does not leave us with much time," Amariel put in.

"But we still have _some_ time," Balin pointed out, positively.

"Time? For what?" questioned Bilbo.

"To find the entrance. We have to be standing at exactly the right spot at exactly the right time. Then, and only then, can the door be opened," replied Balin, addressing not only the hobbit but everyone.

"So this is your purpose, to enter the Mountain," Elrond said, and Amariel released a quiet sigh, knowing that they had easily let the secrecy of their task slip.

"What of it?" Thorin implied cautiously, but he tried not to show it.

"There are some who would not deem it wise," he replied, while Thorin took back the map gruffly.

"What do you mean?" asked Mithrandir.

"You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle-earth." With that said, Elrond left the rest of the group alone to their thoughts. What did he mean? Did he mean the orcs? Or some other, darker force?

 **Please rate and review!**


	7. Strange Dreams and Storm Giants

**Hi, FanFiction! I've started to update quite quickly because I really want to finish The Unexpected Journey and get started on The Desolation Of Smaug because that's where the main story begins and where lots of secrets are revealed. Also, you will soon (hopefully) start to read about Amariel's personal love story! Here's Chapter Seven; I think it's alright but definitely not my best. Well, I hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer:** **I do not own The Hobbit or any of the characters, only Amariel and some insignificant others.**

Chapter Seven: Strange Dreams and Storm Giants

APOV

 _Darkness consumed her vision as an image of an old rune upon a hill flashed into her mind. She wanted to run away, but her body was pushing her closer. Warg's howls echoed in the night. An orc leader, not different from the orc leader that had chased the company earlier that day appeared and tottered forwards. A large white warg with glowing yellow eyes snarled at the orc from where he lay on a rock. An image of a tall, ghastly, pale orc with scars etched across his shirtless muscular body blazed into her sight. She felt a sudden emotion of fear tug at her._

 _"Khozdayin Dorguz... zuranimid," growled the small, hideous orc. "Shugi golgai gelnakhanishim—" He was interrupted by the menacing voice of the pale orc._

 _"Sha nargiz ob hakhtil," he snarled. She could not understand what they were saying, only that it sounded dark. "Nargiz khobdi Rani Khozdil!" The pale orc turned and walked slowly up to the trembling orc. His left arm, up to his elbow had been chopped off, leaving only a stump with a metal claw through it._

 _"Murganish dum... Turim hag shad!" the orc croaked, frightened, then added. "Zorzor go kairaz obguraniz,"_

 _"Ki go kairag baganig," responded the pale orc deeply, and stroked the other orc's head, before yanking him by the throat and lifting him up with his metal claw. The vicious beast, threw him against the stone pillars, and let the wargs eat him alive. Her head throbbed, what was happening to her? "Khozd shrakhun gud sha kilyash zag. Zidgar obod tung nash ru khobdud!" A pack of orcs on wargs stampeded out of the ruin on the hill and into the wild. The pale orc looked directly at her. His milky blue eyes taunting her, flashing closer, and closer, and closer, and—_

Amariel's eyes jolted open, and heavy pants escaped from her mouth. Her hand went to her forehead and she found beads of sweat. She sat up and combed her hand through her hair in befuddlement. It was only a dream, it was only a dream, she said inside her head. But it had felt so real, like it was really happening. But Thorin said that Azog was dead, didn't he? Somehow, her mind was telling her that the dwarf was wrong; but if he was wrong, then she needed to tell someone quickly. Azog was planning to destroy the dwarves' mission, and it was most likely him who sent the orc pack to go after them. But who would listen to her? The dwarves wouldn't as Thorin would be too stubborn and proud to admit that his enemy was still alive after he had thought to of killed it. Bilbo might believe her, but he couldn't really do much about it. She needed Mithrandir, she must tell her old friend. Quickly, she got out of bed, and started toward the door, before realizing she was still in her nightdress. Making a U-turn, Amariel headed toward the massive wooden wardrobe, with intricate designs carved into it. When she opened the wardrobe, a look of awe lighted up her face. There were at least two dozen beautiful silk dresses. Elvish dresses. Her female self was almost singing as she searched through the dresses for the perfect one. An admiral blue one caught her attention so she took it out and examined it. It was sleeveless, had a glossy navy sash around the waist, and fell to the floor like a waterfall. Smiling, she carefully dressed into it, leaving her old clothes folded on the bed. She hastily redid her hair also, as she had found a brush on the top of the wardrobe. She combed her pearly hair into a simple plait, a few strands shaping her face, then, feeling happy with her appearance, walked out of the bedroom. The first place she looked was his bedroom. She rapped three times on his door, but no-one answered. Again she tried, and again she received the same result. After calling out his name a few times, she gave up and looked somewhere else. After searching for Mithrandir for a fair amount of time all over the city of Rivendell, she sat down on a bench and thought. Where was he? He always seemed to just disappear! As she rolled her eyes, an idea came to her mind; she could tell Elrond about her dream, he would probably give her advice on what to do, and he would presumably be easier to find. Sure enough, just as she was turning the corner, she heard the distinct voice of the lord of Rivendell, however, he was not alone. There were two figures standing on the balcony, looking over at the beautiful view. One of which was, of course, Elrond, and the other was, surprisingly, none other than Bilbo. Usually, Amariel wasn't over-the-top nosy, but the unlikely pair sparked her interest, so she hid behind a pillar, and listened closely to their conversation.

"Not with your companions?" asked Elrond curiously.

"Uh, no, I—I shan't be missed," he replied, a little embarrassed. Instantly, he heart went out to him and her mood saddened. Why would he think that? Of course he would be missed! Especially by her; she enjoyed the hobbit's company greatly and thought of him as a close friend. "The truth is that most of them don't think I should be on this journey." She couldn't believe what she was hearing! Amariel just wanted to run out of hiding and give Bilbo a big hug.

"Indeed?" questioned Elrond softly. "Well, I've heard that Amariel has taken a rather quick liking toward you." A blush crept onto the She-elf's cheeks; how did he know anyway?

"Well, um, I—I don't know," he stuttered, flushing. "She is, um, pretty—yes, uh, very pretty." She smiled at that compliment. Elrond chuckled at the hobbit.

"I've heard that hobbits are very resilient." Bilbo chuckled slightly, but then realized that the lord was being serious.

"Really?" he asked, and Elrond nodded in response, making a slight 'mm' noise.

"I've also heard that they're fond of the comforts of home,"

"I've heard that it's unwise to seek the council of elves, that they will answer with yes and no." Bilbo muttered. Amariel chuckled quietly at that, and after a moment she heard Elrond do it as well.

"You are very welcome to stay here, if that's your wish," Elrond replied, patting Bilbo's shoulder gently, then walking back into the palace. Amariel plastered herself against the pillar so Elrond wouldn't see her. As his footsteps echoed away, she sighed in relief, completely forgetting her motives to tell the elf or the wizard about her dream.

...

The rest of the day flashed by in a blur, with not much time for thoughts of Azog, her dreams, their risk-taking journey, or anything else for that matter. In the afternoon, Amariel took a nice, peaceful walk with Arwen, and the two were rapidly becoming fast friends. Amariel found out that Arwen had two brothers that were always away on ventures near the Gap of Rohan or near the borders of the forest of Greenwood, and she felt very lonely without them. Her friend liked to ride her pure white horse, Asfaloth, and spending long hours walking through the gardens. In fact, she claimed to be able to point out exactly where everything was with her eyes closed. Amariel wondered what it would be like to have a life as simple as Arwen's. No chasing after dragons, no fighting or battles, no adventures; to have a warm bed each night, to have a pleasing dinner, and a fresh and neat dress every morning. But then she realized that it would be rather boring, and very lonely, just like she had said.

By the time night's dark blanket enveloped the sky, Amariel was heading back to her room for an early night, when two muttering voices caught her attention. She looked behind her and saw Elrond and Mithrandir walking down the pebbled pathway. She couldn't really hear them, even with her elf-hearing but caught a few words like; sickness, dwarves, dragon, Erebor, failing, and mountain. They of been talking about their quest, but why? Why would their quest matter to Elrond? Rivendell was far away from the Lonely Mountain. She wanted her questions to be answered, all this secrecy and private meetings was driving her insane. So for the second time this day, she ignored her conscience, and followed them up the flight of stairs and up to the doorway of an open, dome-shaped room. As she came closer to them, she heard some of their conversation.

"With or without our help, these dwarves will march on the mountain. They are determined to reclaim their homeland. I do not believe Thorin Oakenshield feels that he's answerable to anyone. Nor for that matter am I," Mithrandir said gruffly.

"It is not me you must answer to," replied the elf lord, as they entered the pavilion. Seeing a nearby pillar, she quickly hid behind it and listened in, hoping to find the answers she seeked.

"Lady Galadriel," Mithrandir greeted. Sadly, from where she was hiding, she could not see anything that was going on, only hear.

"Mithrandir. It has been a long time," replied the most beautiful voice Amariel had ever heard. It sounded so gentle, like she was singing.

"Nae nin gwistant infanneth, mal ú eichia i Chíril Lorien," said Mithrandir. Luckily, he spoke in elvish so she could understand what he was saying. The beautiful voice must belong to an elf, then. "I had no idea Lord Elrond had sent for you,"

"He didn't. I did," answered a deep, intimidating voice.

"Saruman," said the wizard, in not the most excited voice. What was he doing here? There was something about him that made Amariel suspicious, though she did not know what.

"You've been busy of late, my friend," replied Saruman. Suddenly, Amariel felt sleep take over, and her head lolled to one side in exhaustion. She tried to keep her eyes open and her ears perked, ready to listen, but all attempts failed, and darkness took over.

"Amariel?" asked a voice. "Amariel? You must get up, now." She slowly opened her eyes and saw Bilbo standing in front of her, looking urgent. The sky was taffy pink smudged with marigold and light blue. It appeared as if it was dawn, but it couldn't be, could it? She couldn't of slept for that long. In fact, she hardly felt as if she had slept at all. "Amariel? Oh, thank goodness you're awake!" said Bilbo with relief evident in his voice.

"What? Why? What's happening?" she asked, standing up, unsteadily.

"The company is leaving! Gandalf told us to leave as soon as dawn broke. They were about to leave when I realized that you weren't there. I told them, but they insisted on leaving without you. Now we must catch up with them quickly!" he exclaimed. The She-elf found it adorable that the hobbit had came back just for her, and was also very thankful. She nodded at Bilbo and they started to run down the steps to catch up to the dwarves. As they passed Arwen's room, she couldn't help but feel bad for leaving without saying goodbye, but it was too late now. She would make up for it some other time... hopefully.

"Why isn't Mithrandir coming with us? He can't be abandoning us! And why are we leaving so early anyway?" queried Amariel as they crossed over the bridge.

"I don't know about, Gandalf. He just said he had some things to sort out and will be meeting back with us soon. And I, um, think we're leaving early because, uh, I don't really know," the hobbit answered, while puffing slightly. The pair eventually caught up with the company who looked quite grumpy that Bilbo had managed to find the elf. The further on they tramped, the further away Rivendell became, and this saddened her a little. She enjoyed the peace and friendliness there, unlike what she got with the dwarves.

"Be on your guard; we're about to step over the edge of the Wild," demanded Thorin. "Balin, you know these paths; lead on,"

"Aye," answered Balin. Amariel watched as Bilbo paused in his walking and stared back longingly at the kingdom.

"It's so far away," he commented quietly, then turned to the She-elf. "Do you think we'll ever see it again?"

"I do not know. But I do hope so," she replied honestly, giving him a small smile.

"Master Baggins, Elf, I suggest you keep up!" Thorin shouted, and Amariel sighed before walking on. She felt that their journey had only just begun.

* * *

Shades of brown, orange, and green were stitched over the earth, making a rough quilt. It was almost two days of restless, tiresome travelling since they had left Rivendell. And still there was no sign of Mithrandir which worried Amariel a bit, and she could see that it was worrying Bilbo as well. The dwarves, however, didn't seem to notice that the wizard was no-where to be seen, and carried on like their usual selves. Amariel also found herself enjoying the stunning blue mountains in the distance that was coated with pure white snow, and the azure ever-flowing streams and rivers, and the elderly, gnarled trees that bent over her like wizened men. Finally, after crossing ranges, valleys, and plains, the company started to climb the Misty Mountains. Amariel soon realized that she preferred the mountains from afar. At the moment, she was freezing to death, still only wearing her blue silk dress and a woollen shawl. The wind had rapidly picked up, and a drizzle of rain fell from the heavy-clouded sky. Soon after, a violent storm broke wind didn't howl, it screamed. The rain didn't fall it was driven, hard, merciless, torrential. The few trees that were scattered on the mountain, creaked, bent and moaned as their fine limbs are ripped away. Thunder roared like beast in agony and lightning ripped the sky in half. Amariel tried her best not to slip off the dangerously narrow path, that looked over into a deep chasm.

"Hey!" Thorin yelled over the violent wind. "Hold on!" Her hair was soaked and stuck to her neck, beads of water were visible on her eyelashes, making her vision blurrier than it already was, and her clothes were drenched, resulting in her body to shiver uncontrollably. Bilbo grabbed onto her as his feet slipped beneath him and he was about to fall over the edge. Quickly, Amariel pulled him back up onto the ledge, and he nodded at her in thanks, still looking rather shocked. Her eyes fell down to where Bilbo was still clutching her dress, and he withdrew his hand, embarrassed. "We must find shelter!"

"Watch out!" Dwalin suddenly called, making the company turn their heads to where their fellow dwarf was looking. A massive boulder hurtled through the air and smashed into the rocks above them, making smaller rocks topple loudly down into the chasm. The company pressed their backs against the rock wall behind them, trying the avoid being hit.

"This is no thunderstorm!" shouted Balin. "It's a thunder battle! Look!" As he spoke, a colossal giant formed out of rocks and boulders merged from out of the mountain, holding a boulder in his 'hands'. She had heard legends about these; legends of stone giants, formed when there was a fierce storm, and who fought so violently that entire mountains were destroyed. She desperately hoped the last part was not true.

"Well, bless me, the legends are true. Giants; Stone Giants!" yelled Bofur in both awe and shock.

"Take cover!" ordered Thorin. "You'll fall!" Amariel obeyed his instructions and pressed herself against the mountain, as the path beneath her very feet started to fall apart with the rocks pounding against it.

"What's happening?" Kili asked frantically. Amariel turned her head and saw that there was a growing crack in the path. Amariel's feet started to give way with all the vibrations and the impact of the falling rocks.

"Kili! Grab my hand! Ki—" Fili shouted as the company were split in half. Suddenly, another stone giant appeared, only to get hit on the head by the first giant's boulder. The giants roared as if they were the thunder themselves. Amariel looked down, and found that she, Kili, Bilbo and some of the other dwarves were standing on the second giant's feet! As the second giant stood up again, the ground jolted beneath, and they struggled to keep their ground. She saw that the other half of the company was safe on an unbroken part of the path. She couldn't help thinking that they were going to die. Kili seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"Great!" he shouted sarcastically. "Now I'm going to die next to an elf!" His words caused her immediate pain, and she held back tears. Why were they so horrid to her?! Why did they hate her so much?! Without warning, a third giant appeared, bumping the second giant's chest with a rock. The force caused Kili to lose his balance and fall off the giant's foot. His hands grabbed onto the ledge to stop himself from falling, but he was still dangling over the chasm. His brown eyes looked up desperately into hers. She knew she could help him, but his words kept echoing in her ears 'Now I'm going to die with and elf!'. She hesitated and Kili saw that and a look of fright consumed his face. You're stronger than this, Amariel! she scolded herself. Don't let your feelings stop you from doing what's right! She shook her head, and took hold of Kili's hand and pulled him back up onto the ledge. The two stared at each other for a second before another swaying movement brought them back into their current position. They saw the first group beckoning and shouting for them to jump, but it was too much of a far distance. All of a sudden, the second giant's leg smashed into the path further down.

"Quickly! Jump!" Amariel yelled and for once the dwarves obeyed her. She jumped off from the giant and made it onto the slippery, wet ground. Rocks tumbled over them, a couple cutting Amariel below the eye. She let out a hiss of pain, and tried to smudge away the blood. She leaned, tired, against the rock wall, as the rest of the dwarves came over to see if they were alright.

"We're alright, we're alive," Balin said, sighing in relief.

"Where's Bilbo?" Bofur asked urgently. "Where's the hobbit?" Panic seized her heart as she saw that he was right; the hobbit was no-where to be seen. Had he not made the jump? Did he fall? She ran over to the drop off the ledge and saw Bilbo frantically hanging onto the ledge with only his fingertips, shock in his wide eyes.

"Bilbo!" she screamed, terrified. She kneeled down and stretched out her arm. He tried to grab it, but that only resulted in him slipping down a few inches more.

"Aah!" Bilbo cried, as his one hand caught onto a rock. Thorin leaped down, and boosted Bilbo up back onto the path. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close to her. She couldn't bear to lose such a good friend. Thorin lost his grip on the ledge, but was able to be pulled up by Dwalin, who was using all his strength to do so. Bilbo was panting heavily, still recovering from his fall.

"I thought we'd lost our burglar," Dwalin said, when everyone was as safe as they could be.

"He's been lost ever since he left home. He should never have come. He has no place amongst us!" Thorin said without emotion, before walking off a bit, finding a cave. "Dwalin!" She tightened her grip around the shivering hobbit, wanting to squeeze away all his fears. In that moment, she strongly despised Thorin for his cruelty against her friend. How could he say something like that?! Amariel clenched her fists before reluctantly following Thorin and the rest of the dwarves into their new shelter.

They entered a damp and gloomy cave, with no light, and an odd stench lingering about it. She didn't like it there; it somehow felt wrong.

"It looks safe enough," Dwalin said, looking around.

"Search to the back; caves in mountains are seldom unoccupied," said Thorin, and Amariel couldn't help but agree.

"There's nothing here," replied Dwalin, checking a corner with his lantern. Gloin dropped a pile of wood which he seemed to find out of no-where on the dusty ground.

"Right then," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Let's get a fire started."

"No," Thorin quickly stopped him. "No fires in this place. Get some sleep. We start at first light." Amariel started to unroll her blanket on the ground, wanting to get some sleep as soon as possible.

"We were the wait in the mountains until Gandalf joined us," Balin said to Thorin, catching Amariel's attention. "That was the plan."

"Plans change," answered Thorin simply, not earning any respect from the She-elf whatsoever. She started to dislike him more and more by the second. "Bofur, take the first watch."

The thunder had slowly died away, the rain had minimized back to a drizzle, and everything was again silent. But Amariel could not sleep, too many thoughts crowded her brain; too many questions. She wanted to be at peace but her mind would not let her. Giving up trying to fall asleep, she sat up and looked around at the snoring dwarves.

"Psst," a voice whispered. "Psst, el—Amariel." Her attention was caught by Kili who was also sitting up in his blanket.

"Yes?" she asked quietly, so not to wake the others.

"Um, well, this is quite hard to say," he muttered. "Uh, I'm sorry for acting horrible towards you, it's just my uncle loathes elves, and I was only following his example." Amariel nodded, urging him to continue. "Well, back there in the storm, you saved my life, just after I had said a terrible thing to you as well. So I just wanted to say thank you, and, uh, could you, perhaps, forgive me?" His eyes were sincere and his cheeks were flushing crepe-pink.

"I don't know," Amariel said, with a joking tone. She had already forgiven the dwarf, and was pleased that the dwarf was finally forgetting all the wrongs her kind had done to him. "Well, I suppose... But you will have to work very hard to earn my friendship." A smile crept onto both of their faces and they let out a quiet chuckle.

"I'll do my best," Kili said, still smiling. Suddenly, the two heard a slight rustling and pretended to be asleep. Amariel, however, kept one eye open, and saw that it was Bilbo who was making the noises. She watched as the hobbit rolled up his blanket, and packed his few things into the bag. What was he doing that for? He wasn't... leaving, was he? After gathering his things, Bilbo heaved on his bag, and started to walk off. Bofur, who was still keeping watch, saw Bilbo and his features became alert.

"Where do you think you're going?" asked Bofur.

"Back to Rivendell," he answered, making Amariel freeze. What was he doing? The company needed him; she needed him!

"No, no, you can't turn back now, you're part of the Company. You're one of us," insisted Bofur, but Bilbo did not look convinced.

"I'm not though, am I? Thorin said I should never have come, and he was right. I'm not a Took, I'm a Baggins, I don't know what I was thinking. I should never have run out my door." His words pained the She-elf and maximized her annoyance toward the dwarf prince. Having enough, Amariel stood up and walked over to where the pair were talking.

"You're not leaving," she said firmly, startling them both.

"I'm sorry, Amariel, but I am," Bilbo replied sternly.

"No, you're not! You can't just leave!" she shouted, her temper rising. Luckily, most of the dwarves were in a much too deep slumber to hear. "I'm not one of them either! I'm not a dwarf! I'm an elf! The beings that most dwarves hate nearly as much as orcs! But I'm not leaving; I'm not abandoning them!"

"I—I'm not abandoning them. They don't need me; Thorin said so himself," argued Bilbo, his voice rising ever so slightly.

"Who cares what Thorin thinks? Do you not care what I think! I'm your friend Bilbo! I'm telling you what I think is best for you!"

"Well, you're not helping at all! So just leave me alone!" he retorted harshly, making Amariel back away a bit. Bofur, who had been watching the scene quietly, was even taken aback at the hobbit's outburst.

"He's only homesick," Bofur addressed her, breaking the awkward silence, and then turned t Bilbo. "You're only homesick; I understand,"

"No, you don't, you don't understand!" Bilbo argued, exasperated, and still in a heated mood. "None of you do you're dwarves. You're used to—to this life, to living on the road, never settling in one place, not belonging anywhere!" Bofur's smile quickly vanished and he looked a little offended.

"I am sorry, I didn't..." Bilbo apologized, trailing off. Amariel, who was feeling upset at Bilbo's words toward her, stepped forward.

"Bilbo, I'm like you. I have a sweet, little cottage awaiting me back at my forest. I know what home feels like, it brings comfort, security, and warmth. And they wonderful feelings, but we must not let them consume us; take away the real things that matter; love, goodwill, and friendship." Amariel felt pleased with the words that she had said. She felt that she wasn't only telling Bilbo, but herself too.

"No, you're right," Bofur said to Bilbo sadly. "We don't belong anywhere. I wish you all the luck in the world. I really do." The dwarf placed his hand on Bilbo's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. She couldn't believe it! The stubbornness of males! As Bilbo began to walk away, Amariel noticed a blue glow was illuminating from around his sword.

"Bilbo!" she alerted. "You're sword!" The hobbit looked down at his blade and hesitantly unsheathed it, a worried look on his face. The sword was glowing the brightest blue, alerting them that orcs and goblins were near. Faint clanks and clonks echoed from beneath their feet, and a long crack appeared through the sand.

"Wake up! Wake up!" Thorin yelled, standing up. Suddenly, the ground shook, then the floor collapsed beneath them like a giant trapdoor, and every last member of the company fell downwards.

 **Please rate and review!**


	8. A Nightmare Come True

**Hey, everyone! Can you believe it? I've finally finished The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey! This chapter isn't the best but I still like it, and think I've described the painful events quite well. I'm going to get started on The Desolation Of Smaug as soon as possible, and it will be on the same story because I'm going to make the three Hobbit movie's all combine into Dungeons Deep, and when I, hopefully, do The Lord Of The Rings I will make that the sequel. I really hope you all like it! And thanks to all the people who have followed my story since the beginning! Please review, it means a lot to me!**

 **Disclaimer:** **I do not own The Hobbit or any of the characters, only Amariel and some insignificant others.**

Chapter Eight: A Nightmare Come True

APOV

Shock gripped Amariel's heart as she landed, back-down, on the some hard dirt ground; and to make it even worse Bombur had fallen right on top of her. She groaned in pain and pushed him off, but before she had time to do anything else, she was sliding, along with the rest of the company, down the open chute in front of them at a rapid speed. Rocks scratched at her back as Amariel fell onto different layers of the chute, making the top back of her dress to snag and blood to crawl out like crimson rivers. The chute dropped and the impact of landing with a thud on the next level caused the upper-half of her body to bruise. She heard the dwarves groaning and screaming behind her, and her world started to turn upside-down and do loop-the-loops as the chute made sharp turns and odd spins. Her eyes caught glances of mounds of light that appeared to be flames in random corners. Soon, and what she supposed to be lucky at that, the chute narrowed and spat them all out into a big, but not big enough, cage that looked like a giant claw made of cogs, chains, and stripped pieces of wood. Slowly, Amariel sat up and rubbed her forehead carefully so she wouldn't irritate any cuts or bruises, and there seemed to be a lot of those. Suddenly, quick, scampering footsteps were heard, and the company's head's turned to see a huge mob of ugly, wart-infested, goblins running straight at them, making weird sounds. Before any of them had time to act, the goblins were upon them, and were stealing and snatching all of their weapons. One particular wart-infested goblin pounced onto Amariel and felt around for her weapon. The She-elf made a grunt of protest as the goblin stole away her simple but well-looked after sword and small knife she always kept tucked down her boot in case of emergencies. The vile creatures then began to usher them out of the cage and onto the narrow, goblin-made path. Amariel slapped a few away, but their were too many of them to make much of a difference. Goblins were crawling out of every hole and crevice, yellow-eyed and vicious. One creature bit her on the right arm to get her to move quicker. Her head snapped to where the bite was, and saw that it was quickly swelling. Annoyance filled her and she spun around and punched the goblin in the face. Amariel wasn't actually sure if it was the same goblin that bit her but she didn't really care as long as she punched something. As they crossed onto a dodge bridge, she noticed how far up they were and gulped. She didn't like heights at all. The feeling it gave her when she stared down into the dark depths. Her legs turned into jelly and her hands began to shake uncontrollably. Some of her kin teased her about it as elves were supposed to be elegant and used to heights. She tried to keep her eyes focused on what was ahead of her not below her. They soon entered the centre of 'goblin town' and saw many near-broken paths lit by lamps and hundreds of goblins scurrying around. It was far from a beautiful sight. She heard a horn blow and a cymbal continually clang, and it was driving her crazy. A goblin who had been sitting on a throne came into view. He was at least twice as tall as the common goblin and at least four times as wide. The 'Great Goblin' was not only larger but uglier than the rest, even by goblin standards. On his head was a pathetic crown and he held a mace with a skull on top of it. But what stood out most was his wart-covered chin that fell like a well-worn sack filled with pebbles. The Great Goblin started to chant some lyrics while tramping on his kin, but she could hardly hear a word he said; but obviously about something horrendous.

"Catchy, isn't it?" the Great Goblin said. "It's one of my own compositions.

"That's not a song!" yelled Balin. "It's an abomination!"

"Abominations! Mutations! Deviations!" cried the Great Goblin. "That's all you're gonna find down here." The horde of creatures dropped all of the company's weapons down at their leader's feet.

"Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom?" he snarled, glaring at the weapons. "Spies? Thieves? Assassins?"

"Dwarves, your Malevolence," answered a goblin.

"Dwarves?"

"We found them on the front porch," clarified the goblin.

"Well, don't just stand there, search them!" the Great Goblin ordered. Once again the goblins crawled all over her, making her grit her teeth in annoyance. "Every crack! Every crevice!" Amariel glared in anger as the pesky creatures threw her beautiful necklace down into the darkness below. She wanted to kill those goblins so badly; but it would not be wise in these circumstances.

"It is my belief, your Great Protuberance, that they are in league with elves! In fact, one of them is an elf!" the goblin shouted, handing his chief a weapon.

"'Made in Rivendell,'" the leader read with disgust and chucked the weapon away. "Second age. Couldn't give it away."

"Just a couple of keepsakes." She heard Nori mutter.

"What are you doing in these parts?" the Great Goblin asked suspiciously. The dwarves gave each other nervous glances as Oin walked forward.

"Don't worry, lads, I'll handle this,"

"No tricks!" the Great Goblin shouted. "I want the truth, warts and all!"

"You're gonna have to speak up," Oin shouted, and held up his squashed hearing trumpet. "You're boys flattened my trumpet,"

"I'll flatten more than your trumpet!" the Great Goblin retorted, violently.

"If it's more information you want, I'm the one you should speak to," Bofur spoke up bravely.

"Mm,"

"We were on the road," Bofur started. "Well, it's not so much a road as a path. Actually, it's not even that, come to think of it. It's more like a track." The Great Goblin grunted, showing he was impatient. "Anyway, the point is, we were on this road, like a path, like a track. And then we weren't; which is a problem, because we were supposed to be in Dunland..." Amariel almost heard the Great Goblin mutter 'shut up' under his breath. "...Last Tuesday."

"Visiting distant relations," Dori added in.

"I did not know that elves and dwarves had the same relations," the Goblin put in staring at Amariel.

"Um," Bofur quickly said, uncertainly, trying to avoid his question. "There were some inbreds on my mother's side."

"Shut up!" the Goblin boomed loudly, making Amariel block her ears. "If they will not talk, we'll make them squawk!" The goblins all cheered, and the She-elf swallowed hardly. "Bring out the Mangler! Bring out the Bone Breaker! Start with the youngest!" He pointed at the shaking Ori with an mad glint in his eye.

"Wait!" shouted Thorin, catching the beast's attention. What was he doing? As much as Amariel disliked the dwarf at the moment, she still cared for his well-being.

"Well, well, well, look who it is. Thorin son of Thrain, son of Thror; King under the Mountain," the Great Goblin bowed exaggeratedly to Thorin who was not looking impressed. "Oh, but I'm forgetting, you don't have a mountain. And you're not a king. Which makes you nobody, really," he continued, smirking. Amariel's hands curled into fists and she got ready to punch his ugly face off; no-one insulted her companion. "I know someone who would pay a pretty price for your head. Just the head, nothing attached. Perhaps you know of whom I speak, an old enemy of yours. A Pale Orc astride a White Warg." the Great Goblin's words made her heart drop and her body freeze. So her dream was correct and the Pale Orc still drew breath. But how did her dreams know that the Pale Orc was alive when she hardly knew anything about him, let alone met him. It was strange, mysterious, and... dark. Thorin appeared to be even more shocked than Amariel was, and hate was visible in his olive eyes. Slowly, the dwarf lifted his head and stared the Great Goblin in the eye.

"Azog the Defiler was destroyed," Thorin said through clenched teeth. "He was slain in battle long ago." She could hear, however, that Thorin was not entirely convinced with what he was saying.

"So you think his defiling days are done, do you?" the Goblin cackled and turned away from them, and staggered over to a tiny goblin sitting in a leather swing that hung from a long horizontal cord, and was holding a slate.

"Send word to the Pale Orc; tell him I have found his prize." As the Goblin said this, the tiny goblin scribbled it all down on his slate then cackled as he slid away from the company and into the darkness.

The She-elf watched, frightened and uncertain, as the goblins brought many instruments of torture over to where they were held prisoner. The Great Goblin had been constantly screeching out his lustful lyrics for the last hour, waiting excitedly and impatiently for the torture to take place.

"Bones will be shattered, necks will be wrung! You'll be beaten and battered, from racks you'll be hung. You will lie down here and never be found, down in the deep of Goblin town!" Suddenly, a goblin unsheathed Orcrist, Thorin's sword, and all the unpleasant monsters jumped back in front, the Goblin King squashing many of his kind as he did so. "I know that sword! It is the Goblin Cleaver, the Biter, the blade that sliced a thousand necks!" he shouted, pointing hatefully at the sword lying abandoned on the ground. The goblins attacked them with their whips, beating them with new-found strength. Amariel screamed as a muscular creature brought down his whips on a bare patch of her back, causing a blood stripe to appear. She bit her lip to hold back tears and more screams as the goblins clawed and struck at her. The pain was excruciating, and she found herself growing quite dizzy. "Slash them! Beat them! Kill them! Kill them all! Cut off his head!" Amariel's head snapped desperately around, seeing a goblin standing over Thorin about to behead him. She wanted to scream to him, but her voice had disappeared with the harsh screams. Without warning, an explosion of bright white light erupted out of no-where. All sound was muted as a shock wave ripped through the area, flinging goblins in the air and destroying the torturing machines. Everyone was knocked down, including even the Great Goblin. When the force of the explosion had finally passed, Amariel sat up and noticed most of the lights had been snuffed out, leaving everything quite dark. She then saw a shadow with a tall pointy hat walking toward them.

"Mithrandir," she whispered in shock, as the wizard approached holding staff and powerful sword, Glamdring. Light slowly returned, and the goblins and the dwarves slowly looked up, recovering from the shock.

"Take up arms," the wizard ordered to the company. "Fight. Fight!" With a burst of energy, Amariel stood up, took her sword out of the pile of weapons with the rest of the dwarves, and stuck a goblin through as it charged at her. Five more rushed at her, but she dodged their blows and took off their heads in one swipe.

"He wields the Foe -hammer, the Beater, bright as daylight!" the Great Goblin warned as Mithrandir expertly fought. Fighting her way up to her friend, she gave him a small smile.

"What took you so long?" she asked, ignoring the pain from all the bruises, slashes, and wacks.

"I was held up by some business I was attending to," he answered while kicking a creature down. Weapons were getting thrown around just as much as the goblins were. Amariel stabbed an oncoming goblin while punching another one in the face. It stung her knuckles, but it was the good type of pain. Suddenly, a goblin jumped onto her, pushing her down, and was about to bring his knife into her stomach, when the goblin's head just fell off. Sighing in relief, Amariel stood up to see Kili standing in front of her. She nodded to him in thanks, and he smiled before cutting down a few more of the monsters. She turned just in time to see Thorin deflect the Great Goblin's blow, making the thuggish being stumble off the platform. "Follow me! Quick!" Mithrandir called, and the rest of them obeyed. As they crossed over the unstable, wooden bridge, Amariel felt rather sick but she disregarded it and carried on. "Run!"

The company ran with all their might, huffing and puffing, but still going strong across the suspended passageways, hundreds of goblins scampering after them.

"Quickly!" Mithrandir echoed. "Faster!" Goblins were coming at them front and back and every other direction. Amariel sliced a few ones, sending them toppling off the path.

"Post!" Dwalin yelled, and cut the rope off the post with his axe, then picked it up with the help of his brothers. "Charge!" As the vile monsters came at them, they were knocked over the edge by the pole. Soon, they dropped the pole and fought their way through. There seemed hardly any non-bruised skin left on the She-elf but she continued to fight with durability. Four creatures attacked her at once but she kicked them off the path like dominoes.

"Cut the ropes!" yelled Thorin, as the goblins started to swing from platform to platform to get to their prey. After Thorin cut a rope, it sent an entire structure falling over, preventing the predators from getting over to them. Kili grabbed hold of a ladder and they performed the same thing with the pole again. Using the ladder, they were able to make it across to the next passageway, and then kick away so the goblins couldn't use it as well. She killed dozens of goblins, but her strength was starting to lessen. Finally, they reached the next path, but it turned out to be more like a swing, that was approaching a different path.

"Jump!" Thorin commanded, but only half of them had time to do so, before the swing headed back toward the awaiting goblins. As the goblins jumped on, Mithrandir and Amariel rid of them, then leaped off to join their companions. Thorin cut the ropes, and the rest of the goblins plunged into the abyss. They all continued running through the tunnels, killing all the goblins in their way. Mithrandir struck a rock above them with his staff, causing the rock to fall down and begin rolling in front of the Company, squashing all the goblins in their way. Soon, they approached a bridge between two walls of the cavern. But as they tried to cross it, the Great Goblin suddenly broke through from underneath and pulled himself up onto the bridge, so he stood before the company. Amariel gulped as hundreds of goblins surrounded them.

"You thought you could escape me?" the Goblin asked, and knocked his mace at Mithrandir, but the wizard dodged it. "What are you going to do now, wizard?" he teased. Mithrandir leaped forward and poked the Great Goblin in the eye with his staff. The Great Goblin dropped his mace and clutched his face in pain. "Ow, ow, ow!" he moaned. The wizard stepped closer again and sliced the Great Goblin on the belly, leaving a red stripe of blood. The monster fell to his knees, clutching his stomach. "That'll do it." With one final swipe at the king's neck, he fell down dead. But, unluckily for them, his weight caused the bridge to start shaking; suddenly, the section of the bridge on which the company was standing broke away from the rest and started sliding down the side of the cavern. The bridge slid at a terrific speed down the cavern's wall, demolishing everything in it's way; the dwarves and Amariel clung on, screaming in terror. The bridge eventually slowed down and landed at the base of the tunnels, breaking apart and burying the company in timber and wood. Amariel groaned and wiped away the sweat on her forehead, not bothering to get up from under the bridge just yet. Mithrandir got up and inspected the rest of the dwarves who were still buried under the wreckage too.

"Well, that could've been worse," Bofur said from the top of the wreckage. All of a sudden, the heavy corpse of the Great Goblin plunged onto the wreckage, squishing the company further. They cried out in pain.

"You've got to be joking!" Dwalin exclaimed. Luckily, Amariel didn't get too squashed and was able to crawl out without much effort.

"Gandalf!" Kili suddenly yelled, alerting them. The horde of goblins were crawling down after them like a nest of hungry spiders.

"There's too many," Dwalin said, helping Nori out of the rubble. "We can't fight them!" She looked back at Mithrandir urgently.

"Only one thing will save us: daylight!" Mithrandir called, then helped Oin up. "Come on! Here, on your feet!" And then they ran for their lives.

She wiped the sweat from her brow with a slightly trembling hand, fear of what was behind her was her motivation, forcing her onward. Finally, the end of the tunnel could be seen ahead. She could see the azure blue sky and a forest; she could almost smell the beautiful scent of the pine cones. Mithrandir stopped and let the rest of the company run past him, and when the last dwarf had escaped, he followed. Cold, fresh air kissed Amariel's face as she stepped out of the Misty Mountains. It seemed that her sense of smell had disappeared in the goblin tunnels and was now restored. The wind played with her dirty blonde hair, and the grass looked as soft as lamb's ear leaves although it probably wasn't. An entire forest was ahead of her but that didn't faze her much after what had happened only minutes ago. She panted heavily after running so fast for such a long distance, even with her elf-agility it was a long and frantic run. The company entered under the cover of the trees while Mithrandir started to count heads.

"Five, six, seven, eight... Bifur, Bofur, that's ten, Fili, Kili... that's twelve...Bombur, and Amariel—that makes fourteen. Where's Bilbo? Where is our hobbit? Where is our hobbit?!" At Mithrandir's question, Amariel's stomach plunged into icy water, and her heart plummeted. Where was he?! Now she remembered she hadn't seen him anywhere in the goblin tunnels? Was he still there? Was he lost? Was he...dead?! Her finger became numb and her eyes grew wide.

"Curse the halfling!" Dwalin shouted. "Now's he's lost?" She couldn't even manage an insult at him for saying that, she was too depressed.

"I thought he was with Dori!" Gloin put in.

"Don't blame me!" Dori argued back. Amariel staggered over to a log and sat down, her head resting in her hands. Would she ever see her friend again? And to make it worse, the last thing they did together was have an argument! Her head throbbed; she felt like it was all her fault. Didn't she say she would protect him?! And she broke that promise in an instant.

"Well, where did you last see him?" Mithrandir asked sternly, sounding worried.

"I think I saw him slip away, when they first collared us," answered Nori.

"What happened exactly?" Mithrandir persisted. "Tell me!"

"I'll tell you what happened," Thorin answered gruffly and accusingly. "Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it! He's thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door! We will not be seeing our Hobbit again. He is long gone." Amariel shook her head at his words, letting a single tear slip down her cheek. No, no, he wouldn't of done that; he cared for us more than that, didn't he?

"No, he isn't," said a familiar voice. Her heart lifted out of her chest, and she slowly lifted her head, but kept her eyes shut. If it was just her mind playing tricks on her, she didn't want to be disappointed.

"Bilbo Baggins! I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life!" welcomed Mithrandir, making Amariel snap open her eyes and sprint over to Bilbo. She wrapped her arms around the startled hobbit and squeezed him in a hug.

"Bilbo Baggins, you are without doubt the most annoying person I've ever met! You know how worried I was?! I thought you were dead! And then you just appear out of no-where!" She shouted, making him look quite surprised, but then whispered quietly in his ear, having gotten over her scolding. "Never leave me again, please. I wouldn't be able to bear life without you." She let go of him and smiled. Never had she been so relieved in her life that he was safe. Bilbo blushed at her, then turned and walked toward the rest of the company, patting Balin on the shoulder as he passed.

"Bilbo! We'd given you up!" Kili said, smiling in relief and astonishment.

"How on earth did you get past the Goblins?!" Fili asked, surprised.

"How indeed?" Dwalin muttered, slightly suspiciously. An awkward silence fell upon them when Bilbo didn't answer. Finally, the hobbit just gave a nervous laugh. Amariel also thought she caught a glimpse of him slipping something gold and small into his pocket, but she couldn't be entirely sure. She glanced at Mithrandir and it looked like he had seen it too.

"Well, what does it matter?" the wizard said, nodding his head. "He's back!" But Dwalin and Thorin still didn't look convinced.

"It matters. I want to know; why _did_ you come back?" Thorin asked, serious. Bilbo was silent for a while before he answered.

"Look, I know you doubt me, I know you always have. And you're right, I often think of Bag End. I miss my books. And my armchair. And my garden. See, that's where I belong. That's home. And that's why I came back, because you don't have one. A home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can." Bilbo's little speech was so emotional that Amariel thought that she was going to cry again, but she didn't; instead, she smiled. Bilbo truly was the bravest person she knew.

A chorus of ear-splitting howls pierced the air, making solemn or scared faces to enter the faces of the company. The smiled that had been on Amariel's face instantly faded.

"Out of the frying pan..." Thorin muttered.

"...And into the fire!" Mithrandir finished. "Run. Run!" Amariel, as much as he legs ached, ran away from the calls of death. Mithrandir was leading the way, so she had no idea where they were going. They sky merged into a dark admiral blue covered by swarms of heavy cloud. The growls started to become closer rapidly, making the dwarves speed up, but they just weren't fast enough. The fastest warg leaped over a boulder behind them, sailing over their heads, then turned around and bared it's rotten teeth at them. The rest of the company was able to sprint past, but Bilbo didn't make it. Amariel paused in her running; she wouldn't leave the hobbit behind, not again. But there wasn't much she could do against a full grown beast. Suddenly, the warg lurched toward a frantic Bilbo, who, not entirely on purpose, stabbed the animal through the forehead before he could quite reach him. She could see many more wargs charging forward, so went to help the hobbit with pulling out his sword.

"Up into the trees! All of you!" the wizard shouted, as the beasts approached. he then spotted the two members of the company who were lagging behind. "Come on, climb! Bilbo, Amariel, climb!" Finally the sword slid out, and the pair of them looked around but saw none of the company in sight. Where had they gone? She looked and saw that the forest had come to an end; there was only a large outcropping of land with a few trees growing on it. They were trapped there, as there was no way off the outcropping beside a great fall down the face of the mountain. Did they jump? No, they wouldn't of done that. Then where were they? Just in time, Amariel looked up and saw that the company was hiding in the trees. Without saying anything, Amariel picked Bilbo up and helped him onto the nearest tree in which he got the message and then began to climb. As the pack of wargs were about to pounce upon the She-elf, she managed to jump into a tree, and climbed up. She looked down and saw the warg had a strip of her already ripped dress in his mouth; clearly it had been a close one. The wargs began to circle the trees, and the dwarves cried out to each other, saying things like: 'Hold on, brother!' or 'Be careful!' Amariel tried not to glance down, even though they weren't overly high, she still wasn't comfortable with her position, especially since the branch she was on wasn't exactly sturdy. All of a sudden, the wargs quieted a little, and a huge, all too familiar, white warg walked forward, the Pale orc upon it's bare back. Azog approached the trees slowly, his milky eyes gleaming. Without her consent, Amariel's hands began to quiver slightly. It was the first time she actually lay her eyes on the lethal creature, and it was not pleasant at all. There was something so... evil about him.

"Nuzdigid? Nuzdi gast?" the Pale Orc sniffed the air and spoke in the Black Speech, chilling her bones. "Ganzilig i unarug obod nauzdanish, Torin undag Train ob!" Her head turned to Thorin who was staring at his old nemesis in utter disbelief, hatred boiling inside him. "Kod, Toragid biriz," he pointed his mace at Thorin. "Worori -da!" The wargs once again charged forward, howling, as they tried to climb up the trees. A brown warg leaped at the trunk of Amariel's conifer, but she cut his paw with her sword to prevent him from coming any closer. The force of the beasts made the trees sway, resulting in the company to become unsteady. Her heart was beating like a drum; she could almost hear it. Everything was like a blur, gnashing teeth, glowing, hungry eyes, and merciless claws. "Sho gad adol!" Azog shouted. And although she couldn't understand him, she knew whatever he said couldn't be nice. Suddenly, she heard some shouts of panic and saw that the wargs had dug the roots out of Bilbo's tree, making it fall over and hit another tree, and another like dominoes. Soon, her tree was next, so she got ready to jump. The dwarves and Bilbo leaped onto her conifer, making it lurch downwards. There was a big jerk as they hit the final tree, though luckily it did not fall. The company held onto the branches for dear life. Looking over the edge, Amariel immediately got a sick feeling in her stomach. If she fell backwards, she would die, it was a simple as that. From above, someone through a pine cone that was lighted with flames onto the ground to try and keep the wargs at bay. It was Mithrandir.

"Fili!" Mithrandir called, giving him the cone to throw. Finally, hope was restoring inside her. Soon, all the dwarves were throwing lit pine cones down at their enemies. Kili handed one to Amariel who threw it down at a patch of hay. The hay lit up, making the warg which was standing their yelp in pain. After three more throws, Amariel had hit two beast's on the head and one on the back. The flames grew into a semi circle, stopping them from getting any closer to their prey. The dwarves started to cheer as the wargs retreated, but Amariel didn't cheer. She was looking at the roots of the tree which were lifting up from the ground. Everyone jolted backwards, clinging to their branch desperately. Her head spun as she gazed down. She swallowed, hard. Ori's hands suddenly slipped and he fell, but caught onto Dori's foot. The root's broke a little more, making her grimace. It was chaos. How were they to survive?

"Mr Gandalf!" Dori cried, as his hands too began to slip with Ori's weight. Amariel held back a shout when Dori let go, but, to their relief, were caught by Mithrandir's staff. "Hold on, Ori!" She noticed that Mithrandir was struggling to hold the two dwarves so climbed to his side to help him. As she grabbed onto his staff as well, she found out how heavy dwarves really were, and wasn't pleased. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mithrandir turn his head, a disturbed expression, coming to his face. Deciding to see what her friend was looking at, she too turned around and what she saw shocked her. Thorin was walking slowly down the broken trunk to meet a smirking Azog in battle.

"Thorin!" she screamed, but all sound seemed to mute in his ears, and he began to run. Emotions raced through her. He was brave, but so stupid! She knew she would never have that much courage, ever. Thorin growled as he ran with his sword up and his oaken branch shield held in front of him. Azog crouched, then roared as his warg bounded at Thorin. The dwarf tried to swing his sword, but the warg hit him in the chest with its paw, smashing him to the ground. She bit her lip so hard in anxiety that beads of blood appeared. Ori's plea made her attention snap back into them.

"Help!" he shouted. Dori's hands began to slip, and Amariel was growing weaker by the second. Amariel heard a loud roar and a thump, which made her turn her head back to the fight. Thorin lay on the dirt ground, the only sign of him being alive, was his heavy panting. Azog charged again at the dwarf, his warg biting into Thorin's stomach. Not being able to watch, Amariel looked away, and heard a harsh thud and horrible growling.

"Biriz torag khobdudol!" Azog's dark voice said. Amariel hesitantly took a gander at the scene and gasped. Thorin was lying, nearly unconscious on a rock, while an orc staggered toward him holding a jagged knife. Someone had to do something! She wanted to, she needed to, but she couldn't; she just wasn't brave enough. A couple of silent tears trickled down her face. The orc reached Thorin and placed it's sword against his neck, then raised the sword, preparing decapitate the dwarf prince. But as he swung his knife down it was knocked over by someone. Amariel's heart skipped a beat when she saw who it was: Bilbo. The courageous hobbit fought the orc and stabbed it through it's middle. The She-elf released the breath she didn't know she was holding. Bilbo then stood in front of Thorin's now unconscious body protectively, and waved his sword, which was glowing blue, around. Amariel was so worried about both of her companions as Azog smiled in hatred, and spoke three dreadful words in Black Speech. Three other orcs on wargs advanced toward him, and Bilbo's eyes grew wide. Her hands accidentally let go of Mithrandir's staff, leaving him to hold it alone. If her friend died, she would take all the blame. She could have helped him... No, she would help him. The She-elf mustered up all her remaining strength, and clutched her sword tight. _For Bilbo,_ she thought, and charged down the tree trunk. She attacked one of the advancing wargs by stabbing it in the chest, then kicking out of the way. The orc crawled off his dead beast's back and ran at her. She dodged his blow and swiftly cut off his head. Another orc came at her, and made contact with her skin with his blade. She whimpered at the cut down her arm that was oozing blood, but then remembered Thorin and Bilbo, and plunged her sword through it's middle. By that time, the rest of the company, minus Mithrandir who was still with Ori and Dori, had came to their leader and burglar's aid. Amariel, turning her head, sighted Bilbo being thrown onto the ground by Azog's warg. She gritted her teeth and ran at the beast and rider. Anger flashed in her eyes as she swiped at the white warg, making his shoulder bleed. The warg howled and knocked her to the ground. The impact stung, and she groaned in pain; she heard the Pale Orc laugh. Her body was weak, but her heart remained strong. She pushed herself up, and blindly attacked the rider, but he blocked her attack with his mace. Her arm ached and her mind told her to give up. She breathed in tire, and swallowed, tasting only blood. Slowly, she looked up and gave one last powerful swing at the Pale Orc. Azog gave a cry of agony and clutched his one eye. Her vision was blurry, but as the creature took his hand away from his right eye she saw that red liquid was dribbling out of it, and it had turned the colour of his skin. But it was all too much for her and she collapsed to the ground. She fought unconsciousness as Azog walked toward her, his non-blinded left eye blazing with hate and anger. Amariel tried to shuffle backwards, as the Orc's mace swung at her forcefully, connecting with her stomach. White light burst out of shadow, and all she could feel was pain, hurt, agony, torment, and suffering. She felt blood swim in her mouth, and her hands shake. Although darkness was creeping into her, she could still vaguely see. The shadow of the mace came at her again, but this time, she didn't feel anything. Something, or someone had stopped him. All of a sudden, ear-piercing screeches filled her ears; but they were not orc or human, but bird. A smile entered face, as the flicker of hope was heard, before the flames of darkness took over.

...

It was probably best that Amariel was not awake when a majestic eagle picked her limp body up in it's talons and glided over the fatal heights, because although the view was quite spectacular, she would be too focused on the drop below her to notice. As the light blue sky and candy-floss pink clouds signalled a new dawn, the eagles landed softly on a rocky hill. Amariel's eagle set her gently on the rough surface before flying away into the sunrise.

The she-elf hears faint but urgent voices in her slumber. She ignored them, she wanted to sleep peacefully, never to wake. But as the voices grew clearer and louder, she knew that her journey had not ended yet, and flickered open her eyes. The first thing she saw was the company staring down over her, especially a frantic looking Kili, and worried looking Mithrandir. The first thing she felt was a horrible pain all over her body. Her head felt like it was on fire, and her stomach felt like it had a boulder on it. A groan escaped her lips, as she struggled to sit up. She stiffly turned her head to the right but could not see who she was looking for.

"W—Where's B—Bilbo?" she stuttered, her voice sore and croaky.

"Here," said her small friend's voice. Bilbo walked up to her and embraced her in a tight hug of relief. She was so touched; it was the first time he had actually hugged her before, every other time she had hugged him. A smile could be seen on her mouth, as the hobbit pulled away. "We were so worried about you! You didn't wake up, even when Mithrandir did his spell! Are you alright?" questioned Bilbo, concerned. She nodded, but grimaced as that made her head ache.

"You'll be better soon enough," said Mithrandir, patting her affectionately on the shoulder. Soon, Thorin came up to her, looking hurt and bruised but alright.

"Thorin!" she breathed in consolation. "I am glad you are alright! It was a very s—stupid thing to do! But also very brave." For the first time, she saw Thorin smile at her.

"Well, you are not so bad for an elf. If what Mr Baggins told me was true, then you risked your life to save him and I?" He said gruffly, but also appreciatively.

"Um, well, yes. I just think it is my duty to protect my frien—companions," she answered, thinking that he would loathe to be called an elf's friend.

"No," he corrected sternly. "Friends." Her heart almost sang when she heard the dwarf call herself his friend. Maybe, if the two could make amends, their races could do also. She bowed her head, as the dwarves clapped and cheered at the new friendship. Perhaps, they didn't hate her as much as she thought.

"Is that what I think it is?" Bilbo said, interrupting the moment, but she didn't mind, it was getting rather awkward. The company all turned their heads in that direction, and started to walk toward it.

"Erebor—The Lonely Mountain," Mithrandir explained. "The last of the great dwarf kingdoms of Middle -earth,"

"Our home," Thorin smiled, at the teal peak in the distance. It seemed so close, yet far away at the same time.

"A raven!" Oin pointed out as a bird chirped and flew toward the peak. "The birds are returning to the mountain!"

"That, my dear Oin, is a thrush," corrected Mithrandir.

"But we'll take it as a sign—a good omen," said Thorin, staring, unblinking, at his old kingdom.

"You're right," answered Bilbo, a smile on his face. "I do believe the worst is behind us." Amariel nodded, and gazed outward, thinking that whatever challenges they may yet face, they, at least, would do them together.

 **Please rate and review!**


	9. Friend Or Foe

**Hi, Fanfiction! I'm back again. It has been a while, but I've been having a break until I start the second movie. I'm quite excited about sharing this chapter with you. It hasn't got my best writing in it but it has got some (hopefully) intriguing scenes that you will see more of throughout the movie. I really hope that you enjoy Chapter Nine! Remember I love to hear from you so do review and message me! Anyway, I'll leave you to it!**

 **Disclaimer:** **I do not own The Hobbit or any of the characters, only Amariel and some insignificant others.**

Chapter Nine: Friend Or Foe

APOV

She had a sculpted figure which was twine-thin. Her waist was tapered and she had a pale complexion. A pair of arched ebony eyebrows looked down on sweeping eyelashes. Her pointed ears framed a delicate nose. A set of angel-white teeth were hidden as she gazed out into the wilderness. One could see her untamed, starlight white hair. Her enticing, dark-ringed, blue eyes stared in anticipation at the rough boulder, making her bite her full, heart shaped bottom lip. Her strips of dress had seen better days; they were almost wearing off her body, her boots had abandoned the soles and were teared open in many parts, and her usually flawless skin was etched with bruises, gashes, and cuts. If someone should of been passing her on the road, they would see a battle-worn woman, not a beautiful She-elf. The tranquil mountain was swaddled in a veil of white mist. It was eerily silent and the reason was obvious. A Pale Orc and his wargs were too close for comfort. Howls and moans pierced the air liked dagger puncture flesh. Painful. Amariel's fingernails gripped onto the hard surface of the rock. Her nerves were pumping through her body wildly; but it wasn't only because of Azog. It was because of Bilbo. The brave hobbit had volunteered to take watch higher up the mountain to see where the pack of orcs were. Amariel had tried to persuade him to stay, but he was resolved. The dwarves were silent, only sharing anxious or edgy looks, while Mithrandir smoked carefully on his pipe. It had felt near to an hour since Bilbo had gone, making Amariel very uneasy. Impatiently, she tapped her fingers and ran a hand through her hair while her eyes and ears were as alert as a hawk. _Crack._ Amariel lifted her head in a rapid motion. _Crack, Crack._ Footsteps were approaching standing on a few twigs as they did so.

"It's Bilbo," Amariel muttered to herself then addressed everyone. "He's back!" The dwarves turned their heads, and sure enough saw the hobbit jogging toward them, panting slightly, and wearing a disturbed expression. She walked up and patted his back affectionately, relief etched into her motions. But his alert expression sent a wave of unease surge through her bones. Soon, the entire company was harassing him with questions.

"How close is the pack?"

"Too close," Bilbo answered, still catching his breath. "A couple of leagues, no more. But that's not the worst of it." Her heart paused in it's pumping; what was worse? How could anything possibly be worse? Did the wargs sniff us out, and were they on their way now? Were their more orcs on their way?

"Have the wargs picked up our scent?" Dwalin asked without letting the poor soul even get a breather. But still, if this truly was serious, we needed to know right away.

"Not yet; but they will," he answered. "We have another problem,"

"Did they see you?" Mithrandir interrogated and grew wide-eyed when Bilbo did not reply. "They saw you!"

"No that's no it," he shook his head, starting to grown annoyed at the interruptions. Mithrandir smiled and shared a curt nod with everyone.

"What did I tell you? Quiet as a mouse. Excellent burglar material." The dwarves and the elf muttered their agreement and appreciation. Bilbo really was a skilled burglar even though he did not think it, spectacular at hiding from their enemies; hopefully that would help them at the mountain.

"Will you listen?" the hobbit exasperated but no-one heard him over the noise except Amariel who fell silent instantly, knowing there was something he hadn't told them yet. "Will you just listen? I'm trying to tell you there is something else out there!" At his raised tone the company too fell quiet, only letting out groans of annoyance and fear when he had finished. What else could be out there that was worse than orcs? She didn't know, and, quite frankly didn't want to.

"What form did it take?" questioned the grey wizard in a serious tone. "Like a bear?"

"Ye—" the hobbit paused looking curious. "Yes, but bigger. Much bigger." What Bilbo was describing did not sound friendly nor like anything she'd like to meet.

"You knew about this beast?" Bofur asked. Mithrandir turned away and looked over into the valley and mountains that lay ahead of them. The view somehow made Amariel exhausted. Her wounds had still not fully healed and caused her much agony when she performed any drastic movements. The Lonely Mountain was situated so far away that she was beginning to doubt her capability to make it there all in one piece. She drew her eyes away from the landscape and onto the argument that had started amongst the dwarves. "I say we double back," put in Bofur.

"And be run down by a pack of orcs," Thorin threw away the idea immediately.

"I agree, we would not make it far with Azog on our tail. We would have more hope jumping off a cliff," she added, making Thorin nod in thanks to her. After the two had made amends at the Carrock days ago, they had began to establish a rather loyal friendship.

"There is a house," Mithrandir silenced them with his new information. A flicker of hope lit n her chest. Perhaps doom was not as near as they thought. "Not far from here, where we _might_ take refuge." The flicker died down again, the house did not sound trustworthy nor the person who lived in it.

"Whose house?" Thorin voiced with a roll of his eyes."Are they friend or foe?" The dwarves waited patiently but anxiously to hear the wizard's answer.

"Neither. He will help us, or he will kill us." No, this person did not sound reliable one bit. Mumbles of dismay were passed around the group.

"What choice do we have?" said Thorin. My ears heard the loud drumming of my heart, pounding heavily in my chest. A ear-splitting roar erupted into the air. It sounded like the violent cry of a beast. It sounded close; too close.

"None."

The company sprinted through turquoise-blue streams that wound their way through the valley, babbling and burbling, as it sprung over the limestone rocks in its way. The golden globe sun glared at the parakeet-green plain infested with lavender and white flowers, butter-yellow bushes, and shaggy, over-grown trees. The throat felt dry, her arms were pumping uselessly, and her head was throbbing heavily. She willed that they were not far away from the house, or she would surely collapse. Twigs cracked and scratched beneath her feet, and the terrain grew rough and duller.

"Come on!" Mithrandir encouraged, gesturing them onward. How was he not looking as faint as the rest of them, perhaps it was another of his wizard 'advantages'. They entered into a forest that was tannin-brown. The grass was crispy under her feet. Hares were scampering away up ahead; she guessed they had sensed the preying orcs that had picked up their scent and was now chasing after them. Adrenalin pumped into her giving her strength enough to keep running down the slope. Suddenly a terrifying roar broke out, making Amariel wince and a shiver tremor down her spine. The company paused, and fright glazed over their eyes. "This way!" the wizard urged. "Quickly!" Puffing, she pushed herself onward, leaving the sheltered forest and arriving back onto the flaxen grass. Her eyes caught sight of solace; a house. _The_ house. It wasn't overly-large and they could only spot they mossy roof over the surrounding hedge and juniper trees. "To the house! Run!" Amariel tried to run faster, but her tired legs were holding her back. Surprisingly, Bombur, who was wearing a rather shocker facial expression, jogged past her, and every other dwarf ahead of him. At another time, it would of been rather entertaining, but due to the circumstances, she didn't even crack a smile. As another petrifying, prolonged cry rang out, the company passed through the open wooden gate into the lush garden. It was nothing short of beautiful, but she did not give it a second thought; he eyes were trained on the house's door. "Come on, get inside!" Everyone banged against the door, attempting to bust it open. It rattled, but otherwise did not budge. They tried again, but only achieved the same outcome. Fearful shouts consumed the air as the large, black, yellow-eyed, beast hurdled toward them. "Open the door!" Mithrandir yelled.

"Quickly!" Thorin pushed his way to the front, unlatched the door, making them all topple inside. Once all the dwarves were inside, they heaved the door shut. A massive, scared face with drooling jaws jabbed through the door. The dwarves yelled to each other to 'push harder!' or to 'don't let it get in!'. Finally the head shrunk back from the door, and they were able to latch it shut. Amariel breathed heavily and slid down to the floor, sweat visible on her aching forehead. Exhaustion hit her, and she felt as if she wanted to throw up. She swallowed, and struggled to get her eyes to focus.

"What is that?" Ori asked, scared.

"That is our host," Mithrandir replied, shocking everyone. "His name is Beorn. And he's a Skin-changer," Befuddlement took her. A skin-changer? How? Were they not supposed to be extinct since long ago? "Sometimes, he's a huge black bear. Sometimes, he's a great strong man. The bear is unpredictable, but the man can be reasoned with," Mithrandir turned and looked over the company. "However, he is not overfond of dwarves,"

"He's leaving," Ori commented. Dori hurriedly tugged him away.

"Come away from there!" he scolded. "it's not natural, none of it! It's obvious, he's under some sort of dark spell!"

"Don't be a fool," the wizard answered gruffly. "He's under no enchantment but his own. Alright, now, get some sleep, all of you. You'll be safe here tonight," The company began to scatter over the hay-covered stable-like house, looking for a place to rest. Amariel stood up uneasily, and staggered over to a spare patch of hay where Bilbo was on one side and Kili on the other.

"Amariel, are you alright?" Bilbo muttered, concerned. She did not answer, only gave a curt nod his way before settling down. "Are you sure? You don't look it. You look as if you're about to be sick!" he persisted. She smiled at his kindness to her.

"I'm sure, just a little tires, is all," she replied. Bilbo did not look completely convinced, but then she saw his eyes grow wide. "What is it?" The hobbit shifted closer to her, and reached into his pant's pocket. She was confused; what was he doing?

"Uh, I found this in the goblin tunnels, thought you might want it back," he said, and handed over Amariel's necklace! A few beads were looking as thought they might fall off and it was all rather dusty, but otherwise, it appeared to be unharmed. How did he find it? The goblins through it over the edge into the darkest caves of the Misty Mountains. It sounded a little suspicious but she chose to ignore it.

"Oh, Bilbo, thank you so much!" she threw her arms around him, still clutching the necklace. A chuckle escaped his lips and he pulled away.

"It's alright." She smiled and clasped the jewellery around her neck, feeling a part of her restore. But something else was missing. Or more like someone. Her beloved horse, Silver Prince, wandered into her mind. She imagined his silky mane, loving eyes, wet pink nose, and felt a large longing for him to be next to her. She, to her shame, hadn't given him much thought since he'd ran off, all those many days before, but now it had suddenly hit her. She wondered if she would ever see him again; and she hoped with all her heart that she would.

...

 _A young elfling skipped through an enchanted forest with an innocent heart. The deep, harmonious ballad of it's ancient song. With a heart as light as the first day of spring, she dove into a fresh pile of crackling leaves, a beautiful giggle escaping her lips as she did so. A leaf landed on her mouth, making her blow it, and watch it tumble away. The afternoon sunlight glittered through the old, trees that were her friends, and flickered upon her lapis blue eyes with a tint of violet near the pupil. A intricate cobalt butterfly fluttered over her head, she jumped to her feet and began to follow it, her hands in the air. It darted between shafts of lustrous-gold light, the little girl following close behind, a wide smile shining on her face. The butterfly paused and perched on the top of her nose, it's wings tickling her like little ripples of silk. Another laugh was let out, proceeded by a sneeze, resulting in the insect to flutter away. The girl's features frowned in disappointment and she turned around to walk back, when a startling neigh echoed out. She stopped and slowly looked behind her, and let out an awed gasp. A horse as white as the purest snow, with deep brown eyes, and a flowing mane stood majestically, glowing in the birth-stone bright light. Step by step, the elfling walked toward him, nervous that she might frighten him away if she ran. But the horse looked as calm as ever. Her fingertips reached out and caressed his warm, delicate coat. When the horse did not pull away, she giggled and wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, making him nicker softly._

 _"I love you, horsey," she whispered into his now ruffled mane, and got a neigh in response. Suddenly, footsteps were heard behind her, and she let go of the magnificent beast and spun around to see the Lothlórien patrolling guards. They stared sternly at her and one grabbed her by the wrist._

 _"This is no part of the forest for a young elfling like yourself to wander. We'll drop you off with the Lady." The girl poked her tongue out at him as the guard turned his head, then looked back but saw that the horse had vanished. A silent tear slid down her cheek._

 _"Please, come back to me, horsey, please. I promise one day that we'll meet again," she whispered, and, she could've been mistaken, but thought she heard a far away neigh, answering her.  
Darkness swirled like ink around the picture, crawling in circles and circles, and—_

Amariel sat up, sweat on her forehead, eyes wide, and panting heavily. The house was still dark, and the dwarves had not paused in their snoring. What was that? It appeared like a dream, but felt like a memory of the past. Her mind trailed back to her nightmare about Azog in Rivendell. What was happening to her? Biting her lip, she thought about the stunning horse in her dream and then to her beloved Silver Prince—no, it couldn't of been, it was... impossible! Her pulsing heart, however, argued another point. Her past had been blurry for almost her entire life, why now was it coming back to grace—or haunt her. But the dream started, even then, to slip into shadow, and her eyes began to droop and close once more.

"And don't come out until I give the signal." Those were the words that Amariel woke up to hours later. The late morning ray's danced on her pale face, as she sat up, rubbed her sleepy eyes, and let a not completely ladylike yawn. She had never been an morning person and after the events the day and night before held, she was even more unwilling to get up. But shaking her head, she got dizzily to her feet, brushed the straw out of her hair and shredded clothes, and staggered toward the wide-awake company.

"Right," Bofur replied, looking out the small, high window. "Wait for the signal." What were they talking about? What signal?

"And no sudden moves, or loud noises, and don't overcrowd him!" Mithrandir said, sternly. Overcrowd who? Questions tumbled through her mind. Why was she always clueless; weren't elves supposed to be wise? "And only come out in pairs. Right." The wizard turned to walk out with a nervous Bilbo by his side, when he stopped and looked at Bombur. "No, actually, Bombur, um, you count as two so you should come out alone." Bombur nodded and continued to chew on his carrot. Remember, wait for the signal!" The wizard and the hobbit left the house.

"Right, the signal," Bofur repeated, but then a worried look entered his face. "What signal would that be?" The dwarves groaned and the She-elf rolled her eyes. That was her friend, always expecting everyone to know everything.

"What in Middle-earth is going on?" Amariel asked. The dwarves, for the first time, noticed she was there and awake, and grumbled their good mornings.

"Uh, well, Gandalf and Bilbo are going to talk with, uh, the skin-changer. Apparently it needs delicate handling and we're not quite the ones to do the job," Fili explained. Amariel gave a curt nod in understanding and listened to the conversation with her elf-ears, hoping it would go well.

"Good morning!" Mithrandir called. An axe stopped slicing logs, and a gruff, intimidating voice answered.

"Who are you?"

"I am Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey,"

"Never heard of him," who she guessed to be Beorn said, slightly insulting.

"I'm a wizard," Mithrandir introduced, a nervous edge to his voice. "Perhaps you've heard of my colleague, Radagast the Brown. He resides in the southern borders of Mirkwood,"

"What do you want?" Beorn interrogated. Amariel felt like this conversation wasn't going exactly as planned.

"Well, simply to thank you for your hospitality. You may have noticed that we took refuge in your lodgings here last night," the wizard continued.

"Who is this little fellow?" interrupted Beorn, suspicious. She tensed up at mention of Bilbo and her ears grew particularly sharp.

"Oh, well, this would be Mr Baggins from the Shire,"

"He's not dwarf is he?" the terrifying, gravely voice asked. Her mind recalled that Mithrandir had told them that the skin-changer was not overfond of dwarves, and bit her bottom lip.

"Why, no. No, he's a hobbit," Mithrandir replied. "A good family, and unimpeachable reputation," Amariel could almost see Bilbo smile at his introduction.

"A halfling, and a wizard. How come you here?" Beorn said, not using correct grammar.

"Oh, well, the fact is that we've had a bad time of it from goblins in the mountains," Mithrandir retold, while she winced at the mention of those vile creatures, and traced her finger over the red stripes on her back where they had whipped her.

"What did you go near goblins for? Stupid thing to do,"

"You are absolutely right."

"There it is! Go, go!" Bofur urged, having spotted the signal. Amariel thought it a bit strange that her friend signalled for them to come now. Wasn't it slightly early to let Beorn see an entire company of dwarves? Ignoring that fact, thinking that the wizard knew what he was doing, she gestured for the first pair of Balin and Dwalin to move out. She heard the two dwarves introduce themselves.

"A—And I m—must confess that, uh, several of our group are, in fact, dwarves." To her, Mithrandir sounded rather worried. Had they came to early? Or did Bofur accidentally mistake a insignificant movement to be the signal?

"Do you call two 'several'?" Beorn growled, on edge.

"Well, uh, now you put it that way, u—uh—uh, y—yes, there could be more than two." Dori urged another two dwarves out of the house. Amariel had a quick thought that she should stop them, but it was really too late now,"

"Wait, that's us," Gloin said.

"Oh, and here are some more of our, uh, happy troop," Mithrandir introduced, trying to improvise.

"And you call six a 'troop'?" the skin-changer asked, his temper rising, and her friend gave a nervous laugh. "What are you a travelling circus?" Bofur directed another pair out of the door, making the She-elf shake her head. If Beorn decided he was going to kill them all, there was no point in drawing it out.

"Ori, and Dori, at your service," Dori said, anxiously.

"I don't want your service!" Beorn declined viciously, while the wizard attempted to calm his down.

"Absolutely understandable." Fili and Kili were next to meet the angry man. "Oh, Fili and Kili. I'd quite forgotten. Oh, yes, and Nori, Bofur, Bifur... and Bombur," he said as the four dwarves tumbled outside. Amariel decided to go next, so took a big breath and walked out of the house. "Ah, and Amariel, she is our She-elf travelling companion, yes."

"Is that it?" snarled Beorn. "Are there any more?" A moment later, Thorin stepped into sight, and realization flashed in the great man's eyes.

* * *

The company sat around a wooden, rectangular table in Beorn's kitchen. It was, surprisingly, quite beautiful with the carvings and the pillars and a small wood chess game by the bench. Everything was bigger than normal though, because, as Amariel had discovered, the skin-changer towered above everyone. He had more body hair than usual, long, bushy eyebrows above hazel unblinking hazel eyes, unruly hair, and wore sagged brown clothes. The dwarves were all devouring the breakfast on the table as if they hadn't eaten for days, which was probably true. She, although she was hungry, only picked at her food, too busy with the thoughts in her head. Beorn poured milk from an overlarge jug into Fili's huge cup.

"So, you are the one they call Oakenshield," he said, addressing Thorin, who was not eating either, only leaning against a pillar. "Tell me, why is Azog the Defiler hunting you?"

"You know Azog?" Thorin said with expressionless features, but you could tell he was surprised. "How?" Beorn turned away to busy himself in the kitchen.

"My people were the first to live in the mountains, before the orcs came down from the north. The Defiler killed most of my family, but some he enslaved," he started, emotions entwined into his voice. Her eyes lowered to the broken remnants of a manacle on his dirt-plastered wrist, and felt a pang of sorrow for his miserable past. "Not for work, you understand, but for sport. Caging skin-changers and torturing them seemed to amuse him." Hearing this, her anger for Azog grew and a smirk came to her face when she remembered how she had blinded his one eye. Beorn returned to the table and poured more milk into Ori's cup.

"There are other's like you?" Bilbo asked, curious.

"Once there were many," he replied, sadness in his eyes and voice.

"And now?" the hobbit persisted, as innocent as a newborn lamb. But also like a newborn lamb, he did not understand the way of the world. People, creatures, animals, they died all the time. Some of murderous, violent deaths, like Beorn's family, but some were peaceful and more like falling into a never-ending sleep.

"Now, there is only one." The company grew silent and some braver dwarves sent their host mourning looks. "You need to reach the mountain before the last days of autumn," he said, changing the subject, referring to the company's now not-so-secret venture.

"Before Durin's Day falls, yes," Mithrandir clarified, smoking on his pipe.

"You are running out of time," the skin-changer pointed out. Everyone could feel that their time was limited, especially Thorin who was constantly on edge. But when Beorn mentioned it, the reality of them not reaching Erebor in time, hit them hard. The wizard, sensing the concern in the group, acted as if running out of time was not an option.

"Which is why we must go through Mirkwood." Her heart stiffened. _Mirkwood, Mirkwood._ The word kept jabbing through her mind. No, she was mistaken, her friend did _not_ say that dreaded word. Her hands gripped the table.

"A darkness lies upon that forest. Fell things creep beneath those trees. There is an alliance between the orcs of Moria and the Necromancer in Dol Guldur. I would not venture there, unless in great need," Beorn informed, deeply. _Du-dum, du-dum, du-dum,_ her heart was pumping, and her head was throbbing. They must not go near that awful place. Never again would she enter that forest.

"We will take the Elven Road," Mithrandir explained. "That path is still safe,"

"'Safe?' The Wood-elves of Mirkwood are not like their kin. They're less wise, and more dangerous," he continued. _Wood-elves, Wood-elves,_ the words echoed in her head. Too many painful memories hid in them—in him. "But it matters not,"

"What do you mean?" Thorin cross-questioned.

"These lands are crawling with orcs. They're numbers are growing, and you are on foot. You will never reach the forest alive," he informed, and stood up from his seat. What were they going to do if they could not walk to the forest, if they were to choose that path, which Amariel would not? "I don't like dwarves. They're greedy, and blind; blind to the lives the deem lesser than their own," he paused and picked up a small white mouse that had formerly been scampering upon the table, and approached Thorin who was standing with his arms crossed. "But orcs I hate more. What do you need?"

The noon sun shone like a glowing medallion in a sky of zaffre blue, injected with swirling chantilly-white clouds. Beorn returned back to the house after an hour in the stable, saddling the ponies for the journey. His tall figure beckoned for them to follow him outside, and they obliged quickly. Amariel glanced down at the huge, leather boots that the skin-changer had given to her in replace of her old ones. The company came to the stable and waited for Beorn to bring out the animals. One by one the dwarves and Mithrandir were given black and white patched horses, until it seemed that Beorn was not going to lend them any more. At last, the man walked out of the stable, leading a pure white creature with warm, longing eyes. her heart skipped a beat and a smile washed over her face.

"You came back," she whispered, not to Beorn, but to her beloved Prince. The horse nickered and trotted up to the She-elf who kissed his pink nose, and stroked his stunning cheekbones with her thumb. She was overcome with happiness, and let a single tear of joy leak from her one eye. Wiping away the tear, she turned to Beorn. "How?" she asked, simply.

"Him was wandering in the outskirts of the forest, and so I brought him back to my house to get looked after. I thought elf like you deserved a elegant horse," he retold. She nodded her head at him in gratitude, and wrapped her horse in another hug as the rest of the company lead their horses into the forest.  
As the dwarves loaded their animals with supplies, Beorn was informing the wizard and the elf of some important matters. "You will leave my ponies before you enter the forest,"

"Oh, you have our word," said Mithrandir, looking over at Amariel. A chorus of rambled bird squawks pierced the air. "We're being watched,"

"Yes," Beorn replied. "The orcs will not give up. They will hunt the dwarves until they see them destroyed,"

"But why now?" Amariel asked.

"That remains unseen by most. But a shadow has been creeping back into this world, one that has been thought to be forever lost," the man answered in a riddle that she did not yet fully compromise.

"Yes, but what has made the Defiler crawl from his hole?" asked Mithrandir.

"There is an alliance between the orcs of Moria and the sorcerer in Dol Guldur," the skin-changer answered, repeating what he had said earlier that day.

"Are you sure of this?"

"Packs have been seen gathering there," Beorn said. "Each day, more and more come,"

"What do you know of this sorcerer?" questioned the wizard, and Amariel noticed from the corner of her eye that a certain dwarf prince had taken interest in their conversation. "The one they call the Necromancer?"

"I know he is not what he seems," he replied, speaking in another riddle. "Fell things are drawn to his power. Azog pays homage to him,"

"Gandalf!" the impatient voice of Thorin called. "Time is wasting!" The two members of the company started toward Thorin when Beorn's voice caught them.

"There is more. Not long past, word spread the dead had been seen walking near the High Fells of Rhudaur." Her eyebrows creased in bewilderment. The dead were walking? But there was only tales of that happening long ago, when Sau—She stopped herself just in time from thinking that awful thought. There was no point thinking about the dark times that might never come to pass again.

"The dead?" Mithrandir questioned, speaking Amariel's thoughts.

"Is it true?" the great man continued, staring without blinking at the wizard. "Are there tombs in those mountains?" She glance across to her friend who appeared to be lost in thought, his eyes glazed over with memory.

"Yes," replied Mithrandir eventually. Amariel frowned and a spark of fright lit in her chest. Was there a chance that the dark times would fall on them again, she willed that they would not. "Yes, there are tombs up there."

"I remember a time when a great evil ruled these lands. One powerful enough to raise the dead. If that enemy has returned to Middle-earth, I would have you tell me," Beorn said. chilling her bones.

"Saruman the White says it's not possible," her friend averted the idea. "The enemy was destroyed and will never return,"

"And what does Gandalf the Grey say?" The wizard did not answer, and a chorus of squawks was heard again. "Go now. While you have the light." A howl penetrated through the forest. "Your hunters are not far behind."

 **Please rate and review!**


	10. Memories In Mirkwood

**Hey, everyone! I have posted my next chapter. I'm quite excited with this chapter. My writing is okay, and the 'memories' in it have really made me eager to carry on. In this, you will also _finally_ find out who Amariel's love interest is! Now, if you don't like who it is, then I am sorry but I'm going to keep to him, but please don't stop reading just because of that. Amariel's past also becomes more interesting and clear in this. Anyways, before I give too much away, I'll let you start reading. Remember to review!**

 **Disclaimer:** **I do not own The Hobbit or any of the characters, only Amariel and some insignificant others.**

Chapter Ten: Memories In Mirkwood

APOV

The wind rushed at her like an invisible wave, playing with her white hair, and threadbare dress. Even though the company was heading through the green valleys and grassy slopes to reach the one place in Middle-earth she never wanted to go again, a smile couldn't help but light up her face. She was once again side by side with one of her closest friends: her handsome horse, Silver Prince. She lay on his back, as he led the way. He knew where he was going, and although he did not like the dark forest, he trusted the elf who was riding him there. Amariel had never met nor seen an animal quite like her Prince; there was something almost... magical about him. All too soon, the ponies stopped as they approached a looming forest full of darkness and gloom. It did not look like how Amariel remembered it; it was too dark and without light. But it still felt like it, still engraved with sorrow, pain, and memory—horrible memories. The first to dismount was Mithrandir. He jumped off his horse, holding his gnarled staff, and trod carefully into the edge of Mirkwood. The old man examined the ancient Elven Gate as he wandered under it. The Gate was carved intricately to appear like a perfect tree, but with age, vines had weaved around it and cracks patterned it.

"The Elven Gate," he commented in wonder, for it had been long since anyone had entered that forest. He turned and went to call to the others who were already dismounting their ponies, and grabbing their supplies. "Here lies our path through Mirkwood." She winced at the word, but nevertheless climbed off Silver Prince and reached for her satchel which was attached to his saddle.

"No sign of the orcs," Dwalin observed. "We have luck on our side." However, the elf half wished that the orcs had caught up with them so they wouldn't have to enter the forest, but the world had another plan. Squinting, she could see Beorn in his bear shape on a distant ridge, watching them.

"Set the ponies loose!" Mithrandir ordered, spotting the huge beast as well. "Let them return to their master." Sighing sadly, Amariel started to take off Silver Prince's saddle, but then a thought hit her. Beorn was no longer his master; she was. Hadn't he given him to her? Her eyes lit up as she re-buckled the saddle onto his sleek body. Bilbo, who had dismounted, started to approach the Gate, inspecting the forest.

"This forest feels... sick, as if a disease lies upon it," he stated, and rightly so, as the elf had already felt it. "Is there no way around?" Leaving her horse's side for a moment, she walked up to the hobbit and lay a comforting hand on his shoulder, while shaking her head.

"I am afraid not. Not for us anyway," she replied, wishing too that those words were not true.

"Amariel is right, not unless we go two hundred miles north, or twice that distance south," the grey wizard agreed, solemnly, before following the path a few feet further into the shadows. Everything felt strange to the elf, the breeze coming from behind her was cool, and refreshing, but the air in front of her was warm, and desperate. At that very moment, she sensed something. Looking around, she saw that the dwarves had noticed nothing and were carrying on unpacking. Perhaps, she was imagining it? But again, she felt something, a slight pull in her chest. She had definitely not imagined it this time. As the pull grew stronger, she looked around for the cause, and to her surprise, it appeared to be coming from Bilbo. Her eyebrows creased, and she took a few steps toward him. Then she saw it. His hand was in his pocket, and, so slowly that you could hardly notice it, he was drawing something out. The pulls in her chest became stronger by the second. Bilbo's face looked far away and was wrinkled in impulse. A golden glint in his fingers made her eyes widen in shock. At first, it was hardly noticeable but as the hobbit twiddled it more in his fingers, she recognized it to be none other than a ring; the Ring. ' _Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul,_ ' ( _'O_ _ne ring to rule them all, one ring to find them, one ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them')_ , a faint but powerful, shadowed voice chanted in her head. The pulls merged into throbs and the ground began to spin. Flash! An eye of flame burst her vision, with a black slit for a pupil. Then everything returned to its former self. The throbs stopped, the dizziness stopped, and the chanting stopped. She blinked a few times, and then looked to Bilbo who appeared to be as confused as she was. But Amariel could not get the vision of the Ring out of her mind, and vowed to keep careful watch over her small friend for as long as he carried such evil.

The dwarves had almost finished untying the horses when Kili came up to her.

"Your horse is still tacked up, why?" he asked. His question shook her into reality. Why was Silver Prince still tacked up? It was not like she could ride him into such a place like Mirkwood. She would have to let him go, as much as she didn't want to.

"I don't know, um, I'll untie him now," she replied, and walked over to her horse and began to unsaddle him, when a voice called out.

"Wait! Not her horse! I need him!" The company turned around and saw a slightly frazzled Mithrandir hurrying toward her. The dwarves murmured in surprise and perplexity, while Amariel looked half relieved; she wasn't going to lose her horse after all!

"You're not leaving us?" Bilbo said, desperately.

"I would not do this unless I had to," Mithrandir answered in a finishing tone, his gaze flickering from Thorin, to Amariel, to the dejected Bilbo. "You've changed Bilbo Baggins. You're not the same hobbit as the ones that left the Shire." The She-elf nodded her head in agreement, the hobbit really had changed, and probably for the better.

"I was going to tell you; I—I found something in the goblin tunnels," he started, perking her attention. Of course, everything was now falling into place. Bilbo had found the Ring in the Misty Mountains, and that was how he passed the hundreds of goblins unseen.

"Found what?" Mithrandir asked, leaning forward curiously and suspiciously. Bilbo didn't answer immediately, only fumbled with something in his pocket. "What did you find?"

"My courage," the hobbit said, eventually, and let his hand drop from his pocket. The elf frowned, wondering why he didn't not tell the wise wizard; he could've help him.

"Good," the wizard answered, but she could tell he didn't believe him. "Well, that's good. You'll need it." He walked away from Bilbo and over to Silver Prince. "I'll be waiting for you at the overlook, before the slopes of Erebor. Keep the map and key safe." Drops of rain started to splatter onto the ground, and onto Amariel's cold arms. He stopped at Thorin and looked down at him sternly. "Do not enter that mountain without me. This is not the Greenwood of old. There is a stream in the woods that carries a dark enchantment. Do not touch the water. Cross only by the stone bridge. The very air of the forest is heavy with illusion. It will seek to enter your mind and lead you astray," he warned, mounting Silver Prince.

"'Lead us astray?'" Bilbo repeated, clueless, to Dwalin who didn't reply. "What does that mean?"

"You must stay on the path," Mithrandir tutored, while Amariel took in his every word. "Do not leave it. If you do, you will never find it again!"

"Mithrandir! Please, bring him back to me," she pleaded, referring to her beloved horse. The wizard nodded, wheeled around, and started to gallop away.

"No matter what may come, stay on the path!" he shouted back, before disappearing into the rain, leaving the company alone. Thorin was the first to turn away and head into the forest.

"Come on. We must reach the mountain before the sun sets on Durin's Day," he ordered while the dwarves nervously followed him. "This is our one chance to find the hidden door."

The company entered Mirkwood under the tall Elven Gate, following the overgrown paved path in which Mithrandir ordered them to take. It was narrow and wound in a puzzling way among the trunks. Soon the light that shimmered through the Gate was like a little bright tunnel far behind. Everything was so quiet and eerie, but strangely humid. Occasionally, a dull beam of sun that had the luck to filter through a scarce opening in the canopy above, and still had the success in not being trapped in the tangled limbs and dishevelled twigs beneath, lingered for a few seconds on their tired, longing faces. However, the happening of this was extremely rare, and as they trod deeper and deeper into the forest, it soon halted altogether. What messed with Amariel's head most was the infrequency of spotting animals. Why, she had only seen only a single black squirrel that darted past her in the opposite direction. When she had last been there, wildlife roamed at every turn; and now she was starting to think that it was not only Mirkwood that was sick, but everything that lived there as well. Thorin lead, and scuffed a pile of leaves out the way to determine where their way went. "The path goes this way," the dwarf said.

As the dwarves, Bilbo, and Amariel kept following the path through the forest, it twisted and turned over all sorts of terrain, such as bare, dirty ground, high, soil ledges, old fallen tree trunks, and under short, gloomy tunnels. Dwalin hammered his axe against the ground and the slight ring of stone was heard underneath, and he directed them to carry on that way. Sweat founds its way to the She-elf's forehead, and her head beat like a ongoing drum, and she discovered herself not breathing, but gasping for air.

"Air. I need air," Bofur complained, in a raspy voice.

"My head, it's spinning," Oin said, sighing heavily. Her legs were sore with walking, but her mind was elsewhere. What if the inhabitants of this awful place were to find them? What would the kingdom do to her—would they stay true to their word? She willed that they would not. Bilbo needed her, the company needed her! Hopefully, they would pass through the woods unnoticed, it would be better for all of them if they did. Never did Amariel want to see him again—ever! She had said once that she had never hated or would hate anyone, but that wasn't entirely true, because she did hate someone... him. Her hands clenched into fists, and she gritted her teeth.

"We found the bridge!" Kili called, snapping the She-elf out of her thoughts. The dwarves muttered their thoughts on this new found development. As she turned around the bend, she caught sight of a stone bridge that had a huge chunk missing in the middle. Even an elf would have difficulty jumping across that. The water beneath it was silver and had a layer of dense mist lingering on top of it. The elf bent over and gazed at her reflection, in the murky waters. Like always it seemed, her hair was tangled, her face was dusty, her body was bruised, and her clothes looked more shredded than ever.

"We could try and swim it," offered Bofur, as everyone halted and stared at the silent stream.

"Didn't you hear what Gandalf said?" asked Thorin rhetorically and sternly. "A dark magic lies upon this forest. The waters of this stream are enchanted." As the dwarf said this Mithrandir's words echoed in her head: _'There is a stream in the woods that carries a dark enchantment. Do not touch the water. Cross only by the stone bridge.'_ But there was no bridge to cross; not anymore anyway.

"Doesn't look that enchanting to me," Bofur mumbled, slightly put out that we could not swim it.

"We must find another way across," Thorin carried on, ignoring Bofur. Sparing a glance over at her hobbit friend, she saw that his eyes looked far away, lingering on the surface of the stream. She was about to go to him when a shout called out.

"These vines look strong enough!" Kili exclaimed, touching some wide, sturdy vines that crossed over the water. He started to try out his plan, but Thorin prevented him.

"Kili! We send the lightest first." Everyone's heads turned to Bilbo, who quickly broke out of his day dreaming. Amariel knew that she was the lightest, but a part of her was unwilling to speak up. Mithrandir's words kept echoing in her head. She knew she was being cowardly and stupid, but her courage was not as strong as it was in her younger days. He sighed in seeing Thorin point his head in the direction of the vines, and steadily started to stumble across. The company watched anxiously, especially Amariel who kept biting her lip and fiddling with her fingers. If anything happened...

"It's alright," the hobbit said, half-way across. "Can't see any problems—" Just as he said that, his hairy feet slipped out beneath him, making the She-elf let out a gasp. However, Bilbo managed to hook his legs around the vine and hang awkwardly upside down, above the water. "There's one," he put in, his hand causing ripples to appear. "Everything's fine." The hobbit somehow swung around and stepped onto another vine only to fall, face-first, his face hovering inches away from the surface. But this time he took longer to get up, it was as if the water was calling to him—beckoning him. Eventually the hobbit reached the other side with a tumble and Amariel let out the big breath that she hadn't known she was holding. "Stay where you are!" he suddenly yelled. For the first time, she looked around and saw that the dwarves had already started to climb the vines. They were all worse than Bilbo at doing it. They were all tangled together, trying to grab hold of the vines, and tripping over each other. Some of them weren't even heading the right way! All of a sudden, but not entirely surprisingly, Bombur tumbled down so he was resting just above the stream, eyes shut, and snoring. Thorin was first to make it out of the dwarves, landing heavily next to Bilbo. Sensing something, Amariel turned and saw the dwarf prince taking aim with his bow and arrow at a graceful, harmless, pure-white stag that appeared in the middle of a less dense part of the forest. Her eyes grew wide, and she heard the hobbit mutter something sleepily. She jumped forward uselessly to try stop him, but he had already shot. Luckily, the arrow missed its target and the stag pranced away. Amariel then heard a loud splash, and saw that Bombur had now fully fallen into the shallow water.

None of them knew how much later it was, when they wandered endlessly around the infuriating trees and roots, but she guessed that it was a long time. Bofur, Dwalin, Fili, and Kili had taken up the burdensome task of carrying the snoring Bombur. Everyone and everything was exhausted, even her eyes were starting to close now and then. What was happening to them in this forest?

"We need to take a rest!" Ori called out, probably speaking for all of them. Thorin nodded, swaying slightly, and the company paused for a few moments. Amariel leaned against a twisted tree, and had an urge to lie down on the dirt ground below her. Surely it couldn't be that uncomfortable, and it would only be for a little while. Her head lolled to one side, and her eyes began to droop.

"Those voices... Can you hear them?" An echoing voice asked. The ground swayed to one side and then to the other when she looked down, and her ears thought they heard water trickling.

"No wind..." Thorin answered, but his voice reverberated. "No birds... What hour is it?"

"I do not know," Dwalin answered in a vibrating voice, or was it Bofur? She couldn't tell. "I don't even know what day it is."

"This is taking too long...Too long!" echoed Thorin's voice. What did he say again? Her features were growing too exhausted to comprehend anything anymore. "Is there no end to this accursed forest... forest... forest!"

"None that I can see," a dwarf answered. "Only trees and more trees... trees... trees!"

"There!" Thorin exclaimed finally. Amariel jolted open her eyelids, but her legs stayed out. "This way!" He began to push the dwarves out of the way as he left the path. Despite her exhaustion, she stood up, a frown creasing her brow.

"But Mithrandir said—" she started but Thorin glared at her.

"Do as I say! Follow me!" he ordered loudly, and the dwarves reluctantly followed him. Amariel nervously lingered behind. Her old friend had been very strict with his orders. Why were the dwarves so quick to change their minds? Again, Mithrandir's words echoed in her head: _'The very air of the forest is heavy with illusion. It will seek to enter your mind and lead you astray.'_ The sickness was controlling them, they needed to fight it, they needed to... needed to... stay on the path. But the company was already far down the other dirt road. Turning behind her, she spotted Bilbo standing up with an alarmed expression.

"No, no, wait!" he called out. "Wait! Stop! We can't—can't leave the pa—We must stay on the path!"

"It's no—no use," she replied, yawning. "They won't listen to—to you." Bilbo and Amariel exchanged a look and grudgingly followed the rest of the company. What other choice did they have? They had to stick together or they would be even more lost than they already were.

Dirt upon more dirt, layers upon more layers, trees upon more trees, tunnels upon more tunnels. They meandered through the maddening forest of Mirkwood. Their supplies were running low, and their hope was as thin as a needle. The company decided to split up, and wander down different paths, to try and find the one they were looking for.

"I don't remember this bit. None of it's familiar," Balin uttered, shaking his head.

"It's got to be here," Dori muttered then shouted in desperation. "It can't just disappear! Unless someone moved it!" Amariel searched under a root infested hole for the prominent trail but received only twigs in her hair, and an irritated scowl. Her thoughts weren't straight, they were curvy and pointless, dizzy, but blank.  
The company gathered back together again, and trudged along an arbitrary trail. Why was her mouth so dry, she needed... water. And why was she walking the opposite way from the others, she needed to go with them. Where were the dwarves? All she could see was herself. These things would've bothered her at any other time, but while she was in the sickness of this forest, she decided just to ignore it. They needed to escape this horrid place, she couldn't even remember why they had entered it in the first place. Why were they so stupid?

"Look," Ori suddenly spoke, and picked up a small leather pouch of sorts.

"A tobacco pouch. There's dwarves in these woods," Dori said, taking the pouch in his hands.

"Dwarves from the Blue Mountains, no less," Bofur put in, examining the leather bag. "This is exactly the same as mine."

"Because it is yours. Do you understand?" Bilbo said, annoyed, not at them, but the place. "We're going around in circles. We are lost!"

"We are not lost," Thorin argued sternly. "We keep heading east." Amariel gazed upward but saw only the dark, dull, tree tops. She couldn't help but think that they would never ever make it out of this dreadful, ill forest.

"But which way is east? We've lost the sun!" the dwarves complained, but their words were true. Soon, an argument broke out between them. Blocking out the noise, she thought that none of this was natural. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noticed Bilbo looked ever upward, obviously thinking by the way he repeatedly tapped his head and creased his forehead. But as the dwarves' argument got more heated and they started to push each other around, her view of him was crowded.

"Enough!" Thorin shouted loudly, silencing the arguing. "Quiet! All of you!" He then whispered. "We're being watched." Suspense filled the thick air. For the first time, the company saw the gigantic, sticky webs that stuck on and between trees and branches, and gulped. "We must continue, now, before whatever creatures are watching attack!" Thorin whispered hoarsely. Without any questioning the dwarves moved away, but Amariel stayed behind, noticing that Bilbo had completely disappeared.

"But what about Bilbo! He is not with us!" she called back to them. The dwarves murmured in surprise, searching around to find that the She-elf spoke truth.

"We must carry on going. If our burglar is indeed gone, it is too late to find him now," Thorin answered, beckoning them onward. Some looked reluctant, but they trusted their leader, so walked after him. How could they walk away so quickly? She knew none of them wanted to. Her memory rolled back to the time in the goblin tunnels; she was so afraid that she might've lost the hobbit, and promised to always be with him. No, she wouldn't leave him behind; not again. But where was he? He couldn't just disappear into the blue. Her thoughts suddenly erupted when shouts and cries were heard from further down the trail. The dwarves. Were they alright? She nearly smacked herself in the head; of course they weren't alright! They were screaming! She caught sight of the giant webs wrapped around a nearby log, and grimaced.

Suddenly, odd, quiet noises surrounded her. The noises kept becoming closer and closer, louder and louder. Worriedly, Amariel took a few steps back. However, because she was not looking, she tripped over a large stick, and tumbled onto her back. She stifled a cry of distress, as she watched in horror as a web, further down, parted to reveal a massive, lanky spider. Fear pounded in her chest, and she tried to crawl away but her body seemed to be paralyzed. Why was she not brave? Why was she a pathetic excuse for an elf? The spider crept forward, it's bulging, black eight eyes glued to her. The spindly insect hissed at the frightened She-elf, evincing two, poison-leaking, fangs. She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came out. The spider crawled on top of Amariel and wrapped her up tightly in stringy, strong web. The feeling was utterly disgusting, but soon her breathing was cut off from her and she fell into blackness.

...

The first thing Amariel felt was her back aching as if she had fallen straight onto the hard ground. Her lapis eyes flickered open, but she saw only white. At first she found that this was strange, but then the events of the past rushed back to her. Stretching, she reached for a knife that was stored in her boot that Beorn had given her, and stiffly slashed her way out of the irritating, sticky web chrysalis. A few bits of the web remained on her, as she stood up and looked around. No-one. No-one was there. Vaguely, she heard shouts further down the forest, and they sounded like the dwarves. At least she knew they were still alive. Amariel wiped a hand across her forehead removing the sweat. Then, she started in the direction of the shouts and clashing of swords. Perhaps Bilbo was with him, again. Without warning, another horrifying, huge spider dropped down from nowhere, making Amariel jump backward in surprise. It hissed at her and advanced. And this time, although the elf was still scared, she was ready, with her knife gripped tightly in her hand. The spider's pincers attacked her but she dodged them and stabbed it in the side. The hissing creature cried in pain, and turned to Amariel again, showing its pincers and fangs viciously. The She-elf attempted to stab at the spider again, but missed, and was knocked to the ground by its abdomen. Rolling out of the way as the spider stabbed at her it's sting, she got to her feet and threw her knife at it's head. The knife whizzed through the air directly at the back of its eight-eyes head, but just as it was about to pierce it, the spider whipped its head around, making the knife clatter to the ground. That was her only chance, now she was without weapon. The spider advanced on her, baring it's angry fangs. Amariel turned around to see if there was a stick or anything she could fend it off with, and her eyes landed on a twisted but sturdy-looking branch not too far away. Suddenly, a sharp excruciating pain shot down her spine. A high-pitched scream escaped her lips, and tears swelled at her eyes. She looked around and saw the spider's intense fangs dripping with blood; her blood. Her head spun and she felt faint. She fell to the ground, and willed the pain away. If it was going to kill her, let it kill her quickly. The violent creature rose up, about to bring it's pincers down on her when nearby noises distracted it, and it scuttled away. Rigidly, she looked over and saw the company of dwarves taking out the spiders with skill that she had long forgotten. Why was she so utterly pathetic? She couldn't help but think again. Any elf would be ashamed to fight alongside such low quality. Although these were not honourable thoughts, they somehow gave her strength. Strength to prove herself to everyone... to herself. Weakly, she got up, and ignoring the agony, picked up her knife and stumbled over to the company. Most of the spiders were dead, or elsewhere, as she joined the back of their group. None of them noticed her, however, they were too busy focused ahead.

"We're clear!" yelled Thorin, the remains of spider webs still in his hair and clothes, the same as every other dwarf. All of a sudden, yet another spider dropped down from a thread of silk, and hissed at the company. Upon seeing this, Amariel's back stung and she stumbled slightly before gritting her teeth and straightening up. Instantly, an all too familiar elf swung elegantly down a spider's silk in order to land on the spider and kill it. Fear of the past, beat in her ears, the constant drumming of doom, the symbol of despair. Thumping, booming, detonating. He slid on the forest floor, swiping at the spider from underneath, causing it to go limp, and came up to Thorin with an arrow nocked in his bow, pointing at Thorin. Several other refined elves appeared, drawing arrows and pointing them at the dwarves.

"Do not think I will not kill you, dwarf. It would be my pleasure." Those were the first words she had heard from him for nearly a thousand years. And they brought back painful, angry, despised memories.

 _Two young eyes spotted a striking elf with sleek blonde hair that was braided in the front from her hiding place in the forest tree above him. He carried a white knife, and a wooden bow and arrow. The girl was intrigued by him for she had never seen anyone like the elf before. She leaned closer to catch a better look through the trees, but her hands slipped and she tumbled to the ground. Slowly, she opened her eyes, and found that her head was indeed very sore. She also found that the handsome blonde elf was staring over her, a concerned look on his face._

 _"Are you alright, little one," he gave her a small smile. "You took quite a tumble." The young She-elf didn't answer for awhile, for she was too busy getting lost in his azure blue eyes. "What is your name?" The elf asked, trying to get something out of the girl._

 _"I shan't tell you my name until you tell me yours," she replied, arms crossed, breaking out of her trance. The elf, liking her feisty side, let out a harmonious laugh._

 _"Very well. My name is Legolas Greenleaf, Prince of Mirkwood," he answered proudly. The girl stared up at him in awe._

 _"B—But that means your Royalty! A—Are you really the son of King Thwanduil," she said with her childish pronunciation._

 _"You could say that," Legolas said. "You still haven't told me your name, don't be shy now, what is it?"_

 _"Amariel," she said, with as much confidence as Legolas had._

 _"Well, Amariel, are you lost? This is quite a lonely area for a elfling like you." Amariel crossed her arms and pouted._

 _"Don't call me and elfling! I'm just as tall as you!" She jumped up into the air, but only reached his lower stomach. "But as a matter of fact, yes, I am. You see, my parents are—" Her voice broke slightly. "Well, they're not really around any more." Legolas frowned in sympathy._

 _"Well then, you can come back with me and live in the kingdom. I'm sure my father will let you with a bit of persuading." The girl nodded enthusiastically and wrapped her arms around his legs._

 _"Thank you,"_

Amariel clenched her hands into fists at the memory. She was so blind as an elfling. So blind to false friendships. But without her consent, her mind wandered back to another past event.

 _"Ready, set, go!" A teenage, beautiful She-elf called to her best friend, and let go of the arrow she was holding in her bow. Legolas released his arrow which found its mark too perfectly in the middle. It had been many years since he had found Amariel in the forest and persuaded his father to reluctantly take her in, and in that time the two had grown very close. She silently cursed as she looked at her best friend's perfect arrow, and her one that had hit the outer circle. The wind in the training ground played with her curled locks, making an amused smile enter his face._

 _"Come on, you just need a little more practise. Trui ad. Im will help cin. (Try again. I will help you.)" he encouraged, and the She-elf sighed and readied her bow while Legolas walked up to her. "No, no. Do not let your wrist be weak. Stay strong, and your aim will be true." Legolas placed his hand on hers, which sent a shiver down her spine. However, while she didn't notice it, the elf did. He directed her hand into the right position, his breath lingering on her cheek. "Now shoot," he told her, and she obeyed. The arrow whizzed through the air and hit its target spot on. A victorious smile lit up her features, making him chuckle softly. "I told you, practise makes perfect."_

 _"No, you make perfect," she replied, then, realizing what she had said, clasped her hand onto her mouth, her cheeks blushing scarlet. "I'm so sorry, I—I,"_

 _"Amariel," he interrupted her with his melodic but strangely slightly anxious voice. "Have you ever, uh, kissed someone before?" Her breath hitched as she gazed into his nervous, longing eyes. Slowly, she shook her head. Her heart felt like it was on fire, and a tingling feeling shot through her body._

 _"Legolas, I_ _—" she started._

 _"Amariel_ _—" he lifted up her chin, so she would look him straight in the eye. "Ever since we first met, I felt drawn to you. I didn't know what the feeling was at first, but it felt so... good. But I know what it is now. Amariel, I_ _—I love you." Unbelief danced in her eyes, as their faces got closer and closer. Their eyes were glued to each other's, trying to read the other's mind. Finally, Legolas' eyes flicked down to her plump rosy lips. Carefully, so not to frighten her, he leaned over and their lips touched._ _The kiss was gentle, but captivating, sweet and salty. Mesmerized lips pressed together repeatedly, transporting them to another world. Their breathing was ragged, and as she rose her hand to Legolas' hair, their once cool surroundings seemed to heat up. With just the two of them there, the rest of Middle-earth disappeared._ _A sudden desire entered them and they became lost in a sea of lust and love. Her mind was blank at her eyes were closed. As their lips pulled apart, a gentle breeze fluttered onto their slightly swollen lips. Their breathing came out in short, desperate gasps. The rest of the world was slowly coming back into focus, but Amariel couldn't help but smile._

She hated herself, thinking back. How could she of been so stupid to waste her first kiss on a pretend. She gritted her teeth, and her eyes grew resentful. A sudden shout of desperation, broke through her thoughts. Urgently, she searched through the members of the company and found one dwarf missing. Kili.

"Kili!" Fili called back, looking around, alert.

Amariel whirled around to see a spider pulling Kili away by the foot. Her heart panicked. But out of the blue, an auburn-haired, gorgeous female elf ran through the forest. She expertly killed three oncoming spiders with her bow and knife, then shot the eight-legged creature pulling Kili with an arrow. Amariel, however thankful she was, couldn't help but feel jealously spark within her. Why couldn't she be so at ease with fighting any more? The gorgeous She-elf spun to attack another spider behind her, while yet another spider rushed toward Kili.

"Throw me your dagger! Quick!" The dwarf shouted urgently.

"If you think I'm giving you a weapon, dwarf, you're mistaken!" she replied while killing a spider with her knife. She then spun and threw her knife, killing the creature that was about to attack Kili. The dwarf looked back to her in surprise, and awe. Why was he taking so quickly to this new elf? What was with _her_ that everyone disliked.

"Search them!" That haunting voice ordered, making Amariel's anger rapidly return. All those horrid memories flooded her mind; she hated them... she hated him! Making up her mind, and ignoring the pain in her back, she shoved her way through the dwarves whom were getting searched by the elves. The dwarves hadn't noticed her until now, and confused and bewildered expressions fell upon them, when they saw her hard face, and loathing eyes. Never had they seen her this way before around anyone, and they could only wonder what would happen next.

 **Please rate and review!**


	11. A Reunion Of The Hearts

**Hello, everyone! I know this chapter is long, long overdue so I just want to apologize. I've been really busy lately and have had a bit of writers block. But I will say again, that I promise I will finish this story. So, this chapter includes a lot about Legolas and Amariel, and hints a little about their history together. I also out a bit of Bilbo's POV in here. Anyway, before I give away my whole chapter, please, please review and I hope you enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer:** **I do not own The Hobbit or any of the characters, only Amariel and some insignificant others.**

Chapter Eleven: A Reunion Of The Hearts

APOV

Stomp by stomp, Amariel stormed her way up to the blonde elf that had stolen years from her life and spat them back at her as if they were nothing. He did not notice her coming as he was too busy insulting Gloin. Her sweat boiled and her temper was flaring. Rage stampeded through her body. The dwarves, one by one, had started to stare, but she ignored them. She barely had a chance to think of what she was going to say to him. But then again, they always said that actions spoke better than words. As she came up to him, she pursed her lips and raised back her hand. She threw her hand forward as hard as she could, whipping it across his face. The crack of skin contacting skin echoed into the forest, causing everyone to become silent in shock. Vibrations of pain started in her palm and spread all the way to her fingertips. Her palm was bright red, the same red mark that matched the one on the elf's right cheek. He stared at her with his blue eyes wide, as his hand slowly made it to his crimson cheek. Amariel perhaps should've felt some kind of regret. But she didn't. Not one bone in her body could squeeze out a drop of guilt for her actions. The anger still coursed through her body, but had died down a bit after the satisfying feeling of the slap. But as much satisfaction as it was, she didn't feel as though she had done a good enough job of expressing her hatred toward him. Again, she rose her hand, and brought it down harshly toward the same cheek, but this time, Legolas caught her wrist firmly in his hand before she could hit him. He glared coldly at her. She tried to struggle out of his grip, but it was too tight. While she was in this helpless position, her eyes couldn't help but wander over him, after not seeing the elf for numerous years. He had a toned complexion, deep, startling blue eyes, high cheekbones, full, light pink lips, and long, sleek blonde hair. The elf wore well-crafted steel armour, leather boots, and carried his bow, arrows, and twin knives. When she looked up to him again, she realized that he too was examining her. His glare had been washed away and was replaced with a perplexed and bewildered expression.

"Amariel?" he whispered eventually. Many moons ago, she would've adored to hear him speak her name like that. But now she felt nothing but loathing and betrayal.

"Legolas," she almost spat back, venom dripping from her every word. She then sneered with a voice that was not familiar to anyone there. "Did you miss me?"

"Amariel, why are you acting like this?" he asked. "What did I ever do to you?" The She-elf scoffed at his 'innocent' words.

"' _What did I did I ever to you?'_ Well, I'll tell you! You sent me away when I needed you the most! Just because of your lying father, Nin gwerianneg! _(You betrayed me!)_ You threw our friendship away like it meant nothing, and stomped on it, just for good measure! You shot a million arrows into my heart without giving a second thought! You chose lies over everything we had built together! And you now ask _me_ what you ever did to me!" Amariel screamed at Legolas, her temper getting the better of her.

"Farn! _(Enough!)_ " the elf ordered, and she fell silent, but continued to glower at him. "Úpadion, restrain her." The elf began to walk over to the auburn-haired She-elf, leaving Amariel behind held by a dark-haired male elf. "Gyrth in yngyl bain? _(Are the spiders dead?)_ " he queried.

"Ennorner gwanod in yngyl na nyryn. Engain nar, _(Yes, but more will come. They're growing bolder,)_ " the She-elf replied. Amariel's eyes focused on Legolas, watching his every move with distaste. She had given up trying to struggle out of the male elf, Úpadion's, grip, for her spider bite had made her weak. The She-elf could feel the numbness and bruising growing on her back and dwarves were sending her wary, confused expressions, especially Kili and Thorin, who were the most surprised at her actions. But Thorin was soon distracted when an elf started to search through his coat and found his sword, Orcrist. The elf smirked and walked over and handed it to Legolas. Thorin glowered and Amariel gritted her teeth.

"Echannen i vegil hen vin Gondolin. Magannen nan Gelydh, _(This is an ancient Elvish blade. Forged by my kin),_ " the blonde elf marvelled while inspecting the glimmering blade. His eyes then fell upon Thorin. "Where did you get this?"

"It was given to me," Thorin answered truthfully, anger in his words.

"Not just a thief, but a liar as well," Legolas insulted, pointing the sword at the dwarf. Resentment flooded through her. He may have hurt her in the past, but he would _not_ hurt her friends. They were worth a hundred times more than him!

"Ci orch 'waur! _(You are a dirty orc!)_ , Gi fuion! _(I am disgusted with you!)_ " Amariel yelled at him, having enough of his insults.

"Silence!" Legolas ordered, but she was not finished. As Legolas walked toward her, she spat at his feet. Úpadion, obviously having enough of the She-elf's disrespect, punched her in the back, making her fall to the ground in agony. A scream escaped her mouth, as he'd punched her where the stupid spider had left its bite. She lifted her hand to her head, wincing. Her back was throbbing excruciatingly. She attempted to breath in and out slowly and heavily, but it came out more like gasps or rasps. Amariel felt lines of blood trickle down her back and bit her bottom lip in pain. Her body suddenly felt so heavy, as if she was wearing chain-mail, and unresponsive. She couldn't move, and she didn't want to move. Still on the dirt ground, she curled up into a ball, the world blurring into a flicker of dim lights and strange, moving colours. For a moment there was blinding light, then blackness closed in.

...

First, she heard voices. An echoing sound that she could not comprehend. Then she smelt something beautiful; the scent of fresh forest leaves and sweet water. It was so familiar but she couldn't seem to remember why. As the voices grew clearer and merged into one voice, Amariel felt her throat turn into the driest desert and her body, especially her back ache. That was when her memory flooded back, like rushing river or like when the sun reappears from behind a cloud. And although her eyes were still closed, she knew her hands had clenched into fists; not only because of the pain, but of the anger that returned to flow in her blood. Struggling, Amariel forced her eyelids open. It was all a blur of colour, before it became visible enough for her to perceive. Her eyes grew large as she saw her surroundings. Memories consumed her brain, but she forced them out. The room was so familiar; she had been in there many times before, hundreds of years ago. It used to be a room of laughter, safety, warmth, happiness, and... love. But now it was a room of regret, anger, betrayal, and sadness. It was a large chamber with a comfortable, elegant, and well-made bed, a bedside table, and a balcony that she knew lead out to a stunning view of Mirkwood forest. It was Legolas' bedroom. Amariel tried to sit up, and to her surprise, although her back hurt with unreal agony, she was able to. She was lying on a sofa with a soft silk cover. The She-elf twisted her head to see what was behind her when a stern, slightly cold voice stopped her.

"Do not move. It will only worsen the pain." Amariel grimaced, but not because of the soreness, but because of who the voice belonged to. Legolas. The elf noticed Amariel's body stiffen, and he smirked.

"What do you want?" she hissed, venom dripping. Legolas walked so he was in her view, and she couldn't help but see how breath-taking he was. She gazed into those deep blue eyes that she found so much love in before, that now held disdain and another emotion she couldn't quite put her finger on.

"Best be thankful, Amariel," came his frosty reply. A shiver ran down her spine as he said her name. She gritted her teeth together at his arrogance. "I have given you my aid, when really you deserve nothing." Her eyes narrowed at him. It was true, he hadn't given her to his father yet, which had probably made her life last a little longer, but that didn't excuse him from his other crimes. A sigh escaped her lips and she rolled her eyes.

"Does your father know?" Amariel asked. It's not like his answer mattered much, as she didn't trust him one bit. Not after what he did to her. The handsome elf shook his head slightly, his intense eyes still staring at her.

"No, and it would do _both_ of us well if it remained that way," he answered curtly, but then noticed my confused face and added. "I have gotten myself into a large amount of trouble in keeping you hidden from my father; he is not an entirely merciful man. Amariel bit her lip and gave a quick nod, but there was still a few questions that remained in her mind.

"Where are my friends?" A slight scoff came from Legolas' mouth as she said this.

"You mean the dwarves? I had never thought _you_ , Amariel Lórien, would ever bring yourself so low as to associate with _dwarves_." He spat out the name 'dwarves' as if it was some foul drink or poison. "But nevertheless I shall answer your question. They are in the dungeons locked up securely behind bars while Oakenshield speaks to the King." Amariel frowned at this news. Her friends were all locked up, and she knew how unbreakable those elven cells were. Thorin would have near no chance of reasoning with the King with their history and both their short tempers. Legolas saw this and that annoying smirk entered back onto his face. Glaring back at him, she decided to change the subject, even though she had no idea why she was making conversation with him in the first place. He was a traitor, a liar, and thief. He had stolen her heart all those long years ago; but the problem was, he had never given it back.

"How long will I stay here?" she asked, not looking him in the eye. Legolas sat in his bed, still remaining poised, before answering her.

"Until, I find it suitable for you to leave." Was his short reply.

"You don't own me! I will leave on my own accord, _and_ I will be taking my friends with me, with or without your or the King's consent!" she shouted, losing her temper at his arrogance. He was never this ignorant before. However, her outburst only amused him.

"Temper, temper. What a patient elf you are!" he replied sarcastically. Her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pursed together.

"You make me want to slap you again so bad!" hissed Amariel, anger in her lapis eyes. Legolas chuckled quietly, and Amariel tried to ignore how beautiful it sounded.

"Your slap did not even bruise me," he said matter-a-factly. Now it was Amariel's turn to smirk, as she glimpsed the red mark on his perfect cheek.

"Might want to take a look at your reflection, Greenleaf, it says otherwise." They glowered at each other for what seemed like forever until the elf decided to break the silence.

"Admit it, Amariel, you still love me." His words were so sudden and shocking that all the She-elf could do was let her mouth fall open, leaving her gaping like a fish. This made a satisfied smile enter Legolas' face. When she finally managed to find her voice she could only let out a stutter.

"W—What?! N—No! Never!" And as the blonde-haired elf began to laugh at her stuttering, her cheeks flushed scarlett. Embarrassment flooded through her, and her eyes grew fiery in irritation. "Get out! Get out now! Do you always have to be so conceited? Glenn hi! _(Go now!)_ " Legolas rolled his eyes, but nevertheless obeyed, and left her alone in his room. Slowly, she stood up and looked in the intricate mirror, hardly recognizing the She-elf that was staring back at her. Her face was plastered with dirt and dust, her once white-blonde locks had became a bundle of knots, and a horrible grey colour, and her clothes had spider webs glued onto them, they were ripped and needed a desperate wash. She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and for one of the first times regretted coming on this journey; it made her remember her past that she had taken almost a lifetime to make herself forget. Sighing, she turned around only to gasp in utter shock and bewilderment. For standing there, before her very eyes, was Bilbo Baggins. "B—Bilbo?" she asked and the hobbit gave a small smile. He looked puffed as if he had been done a lot of running. Then she remembered that she hadn't seen him anywhere when the elves had captured them. "Why are you here? When did you get here?"

"I got here only a few moments ago," he panted, bent over with his hands on his knees. She breathed out a sigh of relief when she found out that he hadn't heard her and Legolas' conversation. I'm going to try and free the dwarves but I'm going to need your help." Amariel nodded, eager to escape this place as soon as possible.

"Okay, so what is the plan?" she questioned and he grinned in response.

An hour or so later, Bilbo had gone to plan in more detail exactly how the company would escape. Amariel found herself bored, just sitting on the sofa, staring into space, so ignoring Legolas' orders, she left his bedroom to roam the kingdom she had once called home. Of course, she would have to be careful not to be caught, as the penalty would most certainly be death.  
There were perhaps hundreds of hallways and rooms in the palace so, consequently, it was easy for a foreigner to get lost, but luckily Amariel was not so could find her way around just fine. She was just passing through a particular hallway when she heard two elves talking. Cautiously peeking around the corner with her head, so not to get caught, she saw that it was the pretty auburn-haired elf and King Thranduil himself.

"That fortress lies beyond our borders. Keep our lands clear of those foul creatures, that is your task," said the cold voice of the King.

"And when we drive them off, what then? Will they not spread to other lands?" queried the gorgeous elf, valiantly. Even Amariel admired her caring, alert nature.

"Other lands are not my concern. The fortunes of the world will rise and fall, but here in this kingdom, we will endure," he answered curtly. Amariel's eyes narrowed him; he hadn't changed. He was still heartless and cruel to those who were innocent. The She-elf nodded her head and curtsied before turning to leave.

"Legolas said you fought well today," came the voice of the King, making the She-elf pause in her walk and Amariel's heart skip a beat. Of course, Legolas had moved on, and why shouldn't he? After all, the _thing_ that they had once turned out to not be a _thing_ at all. Their love was nothing to him. _Her_ love was nothing to him. Then a thought hit her: why was she even thinking this? It was not like she still had a thing for the blonde elf, he could go and marry a orc for all she cared—right? She clenched her teeth and fists, why was everything so confusing?! As the elf turned around again, Amariel spotted a small smile on her face. "He has grown very fond of you." Why did those words hurt so much? The auburn-haired elf looked away, shocked and embarrassed.

"I assure you, my lord, Legolas thinks of me as no more than a captain of the guard," she replied as politely and suitably as she could.

"Perhaps he did once. Now, I'm not so sure." Thranduil walked past the bewildered girl to pour himself a cup of drink, while stayed rooted in her spot, looking worried.

"I do not think you would allow your son to pledge himself to a lowly Silvan elf," she said, choosing her words carefully. Pledge himself?! Amariel's nails dug further into the flesh of her closed fist.

"No, you are right. I would not. Still, he cares about you. Do not give him hope where there is none." His words cut the gorgeous elf sharper than a knife, she could see it on her anguished face. With a final look behind her, Amariel began to walk back up to Legolas' room as quietly as she could, feeling much the same as the auburn-haired elf.

BPOV

The tip of the sun could be seen glimmering from above the forest, signalling that it was nearing morning, and Bilbo was exhausted. All throughout the night he was having to wear the Ring on his finger to hide from patrolling eyes. And even though the Ring was extremely helpful, invisibility wasn't a very calming or peaceful place to be in. In fact, it was outright horrible. The hobbit rubbed his dreary eyes and waddled away from the window and toward where he thought he remembered to be the room Amariel was staying in. He was still quite perplexed by why she didn't get locked up with the dwarves. Was it because she was an elf like them? But he had seen her slap that elf prince in the face. Surely they wouldn't take that lightly? He pushed those thoughts away when he arrived at the bedroom door, and found that it was strangely unlocked and slightly ajar. He peaked his invisible head through the door and noticed that the room was empty. _That's peculiar,_ he mused. Was she allowed to wander the kingdom freely as well? Sighing to himself, he stepped back out of the room and headed toward the cellars. Where was she? She had agreed to help with getting the dwarves out of their prisons, but how she she supposed to know what to do if she wasn't here for him to inform her?

After trying to find the cellars for at least and hour, consistently getting lost in the labyrinth of hallways and chambers, Bilbo reached his destination. The lighting in the cellar was dim and the strong smell of wine consumed his nostrils. A couple of elves were walking around wine barrels, speaking to each other, but luckily they could not see him as he had his golden Ring around his finger. As one drunk from a large flagon, making Bilbo catch sight of a ring of dungeon keys in his pale hand.

"We're running out of drink," rang the clear voice of one of the elven guards. "These empty barrels should have been sent back to Esgaroth hours ago. The bargeman will be waiting for them."

"Say what you like about our ill-tempered king, but he has excellent taste in wine. Come, Elros, try it," said the elf, drowning down a gulp of the red liquid.

"I have the dwarves in my charge," pointed out Elros, reluctantly. The other elf took the keys from him and hung them up on the hook on the wall.

"They're locked up, where can they go?" he sneered before, the two of them walked away to sit down at the round wooden table. Bilbo couldn't help but smile; this was going to be easier than expected. Quickly, the hobbit gave a glance over at the 13 empty barrels before jogging up to where he thought the dungeons were. As he ran, he couldn't help but wonder again where Amariel was. If she didn't turn up soon, they would have no choice but to leave without her; something Bilbo despised very much. Now Gandalf was gone, Amariel was the one person he could always count on and look up to whenever he needed to. He didn;t know how he would cope without her. Finally, he neared the dungeons and heard the dwarves, like usual, complaining.

"I'll wager the sun's on the rise. It must be nearly dawn," the voice of Bofur said solemnly. Bilbo quickened his pace ad sneaked through the entrance and up the well-crafted rock stairs.

"We're never gonna reach the mountain, are we?" groaned Ori, rather depressed. The hobbit grasped this moment to slip of his Ring and dangle the keys in front of Ori's cell.

"Not stuck in here, you're not!" As the dwarves recognized the familiar voice, a thankful cheer erupted. A pang of pride hit him, before he realized the situation they were in. "Shhh! There are guards nearby!" he shushed. Bilbo unlocked Thorin's cell and let him out, earning a curt nod of gratitude. He then proceeded to let all the dwarves out of their various cells, resulting in them to chuckle gleefully at their good fortune. When everyone was free, some of the dwarves start walking in a certain direction.

"The stairs. You first, Ori!" Dwalin said hoarsely.

"Not that way, here! Follow me!" said Bilbo in urgent whispering. He lead the dwarves through the confusing halls of the Woodland Realm, while they whispered indistinctly. Eventually what was left of the company found themselves in the wine cellar. The elves were now sound asleep around the table, with several empty bottles of wine lying in front of them. "This way," the hobbit ordered, while leading them further in.

"I don't believe it; we're in the cellars!" Kili whispered, slightly annoyed.

"You were supposed to be leading us out, not further in!" Bofur agreed with an irritated tone.

"I know what I'm doing," he replied, getting irked with their ungrateful attitude, but Bofur just shushed him and they continued to walk. "This way." They crept into the large room in which several barrels were stacked sideways down the middle of it. "Everyone, climb into the barrels, quickly!"

"Are you mad?! They'll find us!" Dwalin argued.

No, no, they won't, I promise you. Please, please, you _must_ trust me!" Bilbo said exasperated. The dwarves milled around as they tried to decide, when they heard a commotion in the distance. The hobbit stared desperately at Thorin, making him give in and say:

"Do as he says!" Only giving a second to share perplexed looks, each of the dwarves climbed into a barrel. Bilbo walked along, counting to make sure all the dwarves have been accounted for.

"What do we do now?" Bofur asked, peeking his head out. Soon, the rest of them stuck their heads out too and watched the hobbit as he waddled toward a lever in the ground. He thought for a second before answering.

"Hold your breath."

"Hold my breath? What do you mean?" But before Bofur could finish, Bilbo pulled the lever, and the part of the floor that the barrels were on tilted downward into an opening, in which they rolled out of and fell several feet into a gushing river that ran beneath the Realm. The dwarves yelled and shrieked in shock and surprise as they tumbled with splashing noises into the water. When the floor returned to its former state, Bilbo triumphantly looked around, then realized that he had forgotten to get himself out. The elves sleeping around the table stirred and began to wake up, making Bilbo gulp. What was he going to do?

APOV

Sunrise was drawing near when Amariel was only a few hallways away from the blonde-elf's room. Bilbo should be arriving soon to explain the finishing touches of the escape plan to her. She knew she should concentrate on that, but her mind didn't seem to be able to settle. Thranduil's conversation with the auburn-haired elf, which she had decided to nickname 'Caran' which meant 'Red' in Sindarin elvish, kept replaying in her head. Each time she thought of it, a sick, throbbing feeling entered her chest; and the worst part was that Amariel had no-idea what it was.  
Shoving the thoughts away, she reached the beautifully carved door that lead on to Legolas' room, and slowly placed her hand on the handle and gently pushed it open just enough so she could see if the King's son was in there. Fortunately, he was not; for if he was, she could be in a lot of trouble for wandering around without his consent. But just before she could walk through, two hands grasped onto her waist from behind. Her breath hitched.

"Greenleaf," she whispered, while slowly turning around to face the sinister but incredibly attractive elf.

"Your senses are not as alert as they used to be," Legolas replied with a slight smirk. "You were _so_ deep in thought that you walked right past me. I am sincerely disappointed, I thought my presence affected you more." She glowered at him, her eyes cold.

"Well, clearly you thought wrong," she replied in a venomous tone, only half telling the truth.

"Then why are your cheeks the colour of roses?" he answered. At once, Amariel's hands flew up to her cheeks and found them very warm, which for some reason made her even more annoyed with the elf prince.

"Why are you even here?" Amariel asked, trying to change the subject from herself.

"I came to check on you, and a good thing too as I found the room vacant," he said, his smirk vanished and his tone stern. Amariel bit her lip, preparing herself for a scolding. "I warned you not to wander the kingdom. You're very lucky the king did not find you. He is not as merciful as I am."

"I wouldn't go all the way to calling you 'merciful'. From my experience you've been quite the opposite." As Amariel said this, Legolas' eyes grew dark; but not a menacing dark, it was an almost sorrowful one.

"If you are referring to what happened all those years ago, I had no choice."

"Of course you had a choice! Everyone has a choice!" she yelled, her temper again getting the better of her. Glancing around, Legolas, took hold of her arm and pulled her down a flight of stairs away from the room. Amariel gave little fight by this gesture for mainly two reasons. The first being that she knew that if she was to put up a fight, Legolas would win as he was much stronger than her, especially now she was still recovering from her spider bite. And the second reason was incredibly strange being that a tiny part of her rather liked Legolas' hands touching her, but again, that part was _very_ small. Eventually, the elves came to a stop in a dark, desolated area lit only by a lantern on the corner of the wall. Legolas immediately let go of her arm, and gazed at her intently. She swallowed, and found her throat dry.

"I will repeat: there was no choice, not for me."

"So hurting someone who loved you greatly was your only choice?" Amariel almost spat, eyes flaring.

"You said 'loved' in past tense," he stated. It wasn't a question but it was clear that he wanted an answer.

"Yes," the She-elf breathed, her anger calming down and a humourless mood replacing it. "What ever we had in the past is now long gone... forever." With those final words spoken, she turned and walked away, leaving Legolas staring after her blankly.

 **Please rate and review!**


	12. A Black Arrow and A New Friend

**Hi, again! This chapter is a bit late, and I'm really sorry about that. But I've been writing a lot on my other stories lately. Hopefully the next ones though won't take so long to write. I've been really busy lately and have had a bit of writers block. I'm quite happy with this chapter, but it's mostly a filler. I just want to say thank you to all my readers too, I am so grateful for your support!**

 **Disclaimer:** **I do not own The Hobbit or any of the characters, only Amariel and some insignificant others.**

Chapter Twelve: A Black Arrow and A New Friend

APOV

Amariel hurtled back up the stairs, her heart thumping like a heard of wild bison. Why was it always her that got stuck in these messes? Half of her was frustrated with Legolas for claiming that he hadn't had as choice when he definitely did have one, he just refused to bring himself so low to admit it. The other half of her was almost guilty, as when she left him, his face was blank, but in a way held so much emotion. He had looked almost... sad? But he couldn't of; he was the one that had deserted her, he was the one who had betrayed her, he was the one who had broke her. Then why did she still feel remorseful by her harsh words, he had deserved him, had he not? Maybe it was because she couldn't stand anyone going through the same amount of pain she had.

Her mind was blasting with unwanted thoughts, and she couldn't seem to stop it. She ceased in her walk and dug her fingernails into her scalp, and squeezed shut her eyes in hope to rid all questions and agony. At that moment, she needed someone to comfort her. Not Bilbo, as he probably wouldn't understand what she was going through, and she didn't want to burden him either. Not Thorin, as his hatred of the Mirkwood ilk would surely get nowhere in helping her. Not Kili, because she had seen the way he looked at Caran when she rescued him, and she didn't want to ruin his view on love. No, the person she needed was the same one that had been causing her all this trouble in the first place. She needed Legolas.

Quickly, Amariel shook her head trying to get his beautiful image out of her brain. Why would she need him? Him, of all people? Then quite suddenly as chain of memories came back to her: the blonde elf was caressing her cheek and staring deeply into her eyes trying to reassure her; they were at the edge of a cliff, in which she was gazing down from, frightened, when he wrapped his arms around her waist, calming her; they were running around the forest as younglings, when she tripped and twisted her ankle, and he bent down, picked her up bridal-style, and carried her the entire way home; he was kissing her softly in the light of the moon, making all of her worries wash away. The memories halted, and a solitary tear slipped down her cheek. Suddenly a loud voice rang out, followed by the shouts of many others.

"Afad- hain! Hi! _(Follow them! Now!)_ " It sounded like the voice of Caran. Then it hit her. She had supposed to meet Bilbo to rescue the dwarves ages ago! He had probably given up on waiting and gone to do the deed himself! Amariel's features grew alert as she darted down the next hallway, eager to catch up to her friends. A horn sounded with extreme volume, coming from the gates to the palace. She quickened her step and caught sight of a bow and arrow, and short dagger lying on a nearby table, probably placed by someone who was too lazy to go to the weapon room. She hesitated just for a moment before grabbing them, just in case worse comes to worst. She continued to hurry down the hallways as fast as she could, but keeping in mind to try stay unseen. Only a few hallways away from the entrance, quite a few dozens of elf guards marched forward, making Amariel duck behind a wall as they went past. Why were there so much elves just to go after a group of twelve dwarves plus Bilbo most likely in barrels?

* * *

After they had past, Amariel ran through the last corridor, before finally arriving outside. What she saw shocked her. Orcs roamed the ground, violently knocking down the elves with their gnarled maces. How did they get there? How did they reach them? Then her eyes landed on the dwarves, as she guessed, in barrels, in the gushing stream. But they were trapped as the heavy metal sluice gate leading out of the Realm was closed. She gripped her dagger tightly. A gasp escaped her lips when she noticed Kili standing next to the lever, a black arrow stuck in his calf.

"No," she whispered. The dwarf groaned and strained to pull the lever but the pain was too much and he collapsed onto his back. "Kili!" she shrieked, making the dwarves turn in the direction of her, as well as some of the orcs. "Oh no," she muttered as she drew her bow and arrow. A grey, pudgy orc charged at her blindly wielding his knife. She ducked his blow, and came up behind him, stabbing him in the back. She took this spare moment to glance back over at Kili, who had been saved yet again by Caran who was indeed an incredible fighter. Her attention wiped away from them as three orcs came at her at once. She aimed her arrow and shot one mid forehead. The other swung at her and she only just dodged it before cutting its throat. The last one growled at her before throwing his jagged knife her way. She rapidly jolted her head out of the way, so blade only nicked her ear instead of chopping it straight off. Her brows narrowed at him before she shot him in the stomach.

She made her way closer to the dwarves. If Kili was in too much pain to pull the lever, she would have to instead. She was getting close to the tortured dwarf now, her body aching from the amount of strength used to battle these monsters. Another orc came at her, but she turned around and stabbed it in the neck. An horrifying orc jumped at Kili, about to dig his deadly axe into the dwarfs head when out of nowhere an arrow periced him in the heart. Amariel spun around to see Caran, a look of determination and relief in her eyes. With a new burst of strength, Amariel swiped at two orcs at once, kicking them into the stream.

"Gor'-ash! Gor golginul! _(Kill them! Kill the She-elves!)_ " shouted the rough voice of the orc that shot Kili. He looked much like a spawn of Azog himself, with metal plates and stitches bolging out from everywhere on his skin. At his order, a dozen more orcs came running at her and Caran. Most of them she dodged, as she was too weak at the moment to have the same skill as Caran who was killing the majority of the ones coming at her. As Amariel fought the creatures, she couldn't help but notice again how ugly they were.

"And to think your ancestors were once elves," she muttered to herself in disgust as she stabbed her arrow into one's neck and chucked it to the ground. Another orc ca,d at her from an odd angle making her take a few steps backward, as she blocked his sword. Suddenly, her feet slipped, making her heart jolt. She spared a quick glance behind her, as she tumbled back toward the river. She closed her eyes, waiting for the chill of the icy water. But it never came. Slowly, Amariel opened her eyes, and what she saw shocked her. She was held out of the water by a hand supporting her lower back. Legolas' hand. He had rescued her; but why? She wasn't exactly the most pleasant person around him, even if he deserved it. For what seemed like hours but she knew to only really seconds, the two just gazed into each other's eyes, as If it was there where they would find all the answers to their mysteries. Then it was over. And Legolas pushed Amariel onto solid ground, before walking off, now and arrow in hand, and fighting orcs with such agility that was unknown to her. Quickly, she took her eyes off him and focussed back on murdering the miserable creatures attacking her.

"Khozdayin obguryash! Abgurid! _(After them!)_ " the lead orc yelled. The orcs who were fighting her stopped, snarled then charged away. Confused, she looked to where the dwarves were. Or were supposed to be. They had vanished. Even Kili had made it out. She was about to sigh in relief when she realised that they were not yet safe, they were still pursued by the orcs. Without hesitation, Amariel went after them, jumping over the gates. She spotted the dwarves gushing down the river, trying to helplessly dodge the oncoming weapons. Legolas and Caran also has followed the orcs, killing them with perfected moves.

The dwarves tried to paddle and steer with their hands, but to no avail; the river was too wild. An orc ahead jumped from an overhanging tree branch toward Balin, but Thorin threw his sword and pinned the orc to the tree; as the orc dropped its weapon, Thorin caught it and threw it back to Bombur, who threw it to Nori, who threw it to Fili, who killed an orc with it. Amariel caught sight of a low-hanging tree branch that was stretched across the width of the river, which also had a few growling orcs on it.

"Cut the log!" Thorin ordered, digging his sword into the bark, to which the rest did the same, until the branch broke into the water, drowning the orcs on top of it. An orc with a squashed face jumped at Kili's barrel, but seeing what was going to happen, Amariel tossed a rock at its head, knocking it out. Kili half smiled, half grimaced in pain at her, she just nodded back at him, before running ahead. Looking further up, she saw Bombur, still in his barrel, rolling across dry land, squashing orcs as he did.

Eventually, the barrel came to a stop, and orcs surrounded it; however, Bombur kicked out the bottom, then stuck his arms holding axes through the sides. He then started spinning rapidly with the axes extended, mowing down all the ugly creatures around him. He then ran toward the river, tossing his axe to one of the other floating dwarves, then gracefully jumped into an empty barrel. Amariel couldn't help but smile at his probably accidental skills.

Legolas leapt over the river and landed elegantly with his feet on the heads of two dwarves, from this vantage point, he shot orcs on either one of the riverbanks. He aimed carefully, and managed to skewer two orcs through the head with one arrow. It was impressive, she couldn't deny that. Legolas continued to fight orcs, using the heads of floating dwarves as stepping stones to get across the river, while Amariel went ahead running to catch up with her friends. They wouldn't leave her behind, would they? What about Kili? What about Bilbo? She halted for a second, just to catch her breath. It seemed most of the orcs were dead, and the elves had stoped pursuing them. If she hurried, she could still, perhaps, catch up with the company. But what about Legolas? There were so many mysteries left undiscovered in the Mirkwood. She would have to choose. And she hated the choices. The dwarves, where sweet little Bilbo was and where Kili was injured? Or Legolas? Where she _might_ discover the secrets that haunted her past?

Suddenly, a crack of a twig behind her caught her attention. Spinning around, she saw it was an orc. It had an arrow strung in its bow, pointing toward... Legolas. The blonde elf seemed unaware that he was moments away from death, looking intently at where the dwarves had escaped down the river. Amariel froze for a moment; her throat clogged up. Quickly awaking from her trance, she glanced behind her, and to her utter shock, noticed that she had run out of arrows. It was so silent that she could hear her heart thump heavily, threatening to burst out of her chest.

The orc grinned slyly, showing its black gums and yellow teeth, as it drew its arm back to released the black arrow. _Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump._ Amariel knew she should shout, to warn him, but her mouth couldn't move. Why couldn't it move?!

Then the orc shot the arrow.

But it didn't hit its target. It hit Amariel.

At the last second, the She-elf had thrown herself in front of the man she had once loved, and then collapsed to the ground, an arrow sticking out of her side.

Black spots swarmed her view and pain—so much pain! She felt thick liquid slide onto her arm and smelt the unappealing odor of blood. But Amariel couldn't move. Even the slightest twitch would send electrifying shots through her side. She stifled a scream, but felt a single tear drip down her cheek, before darkness closed in.

* * *

Agony. She woke to agony. There was a foul taste on her mouth, it couldn't be natural. Her whole body felt heavy—too heavy. Her throat was as dry as a desert too, she needed water. Slowly, her eyes were able to adjust to the surroundings. Through her sore haze, she saw a forest. She recognised it at once. It was Mirkwood. What was she doing back here? She sat up, grimacing as a painful throb erupted in her side. Her arms, thighs, stomach, and clothes were plastered with dried blood. The sight urged her to throw up. But keeping her lips pursed closed, she forced herself to stand. She needed to get to the dwarves. But how? They could be in Laketown by now, if they were lucky. Her hand flew up to her forehead as an aching stabbed at it.

In the distance, she spotted the kingdom of Mirkwood. Who had carried her here? It was a rather long way. Was it Legolas? But if he had bothered to carry her here, why would he just leave her? Bafflement took control of her, followed by determination. Determination to get to Bilbo, to get to Kili, to get to Mithrandir. She pulled herself toward the kingdom, trying to get her mind focussed on other things besides the infuriating throbbing all over. To get to Laketown, she would have to either risk execution yet again by venturing through Thranduil's kingdom, or face the threat of wondering the sickened forest and losing her forever. She decided to go with the former.

After hours of trudging toward the kingdom, Amariel had almost reached the front gate. She had no idea what she was going to do when she arrived, but at this point she was too exhausted to care. Suddenly, the doors creaked open, and Caran stormed out, almost bumping into Amariel in the blindness of her irritation.

"W—What are _you_ doing here?" she asked, not in a nasty tone, more of a surprised one.

"I, I, need to get to Laketown," she said, her voice tired and pathetic. Caran's eyes then fell to the arrow plunging into her side.

"My! You need to get that fixed!" she exclaimed, obviously oblivious to the fact Amariel was banished.

"No!" she blurted out too quickly. Caran quirked an eyebrow. "I mean, no thank you. I'm fine. I just need to get to Laketown."

"I'm heading there to help... someone. I could take you, of you would like?" She smiled, but Amariel could see she was in a hurry.

"That would be most helpful, thanks," she said then held out her left hand, as her right was too sore to move. "I'm Amariel, by the way."

Caran accepted her hand. "Tauriel," she introduced.

The two She-elves then headed in the direction of Long Lake, Tauriel occasionally helping Amariel regain her balance.

Soon, night fell, covering the surroundings with darkness and chilly breezes. Speckled stars roamed the sky, twinkling with the light of forever. Amariel and Tauriel, both having eventually stopped for the night, simultaneously gazed up, eyes glowing with intrigue. The light that the Mirkwood elves prized beyond all rest was the light of the stars. The blonde haired She-elf's thoughts then stayed to her friends again. She had been thinking about them a lot as they had walked, or in Amariel's case, limped. She wondered where they were now. Hopefully, they had found a way across the unforgiving waters, and not into the hands of the orcs. A part of Amariel regretted staying behind; she could've caught up, she could've still been protecting Bilbo, honouring her promise. And she could have healed Kili, or at least tried. But she chose to save the life of someone, who had left her stranded in a forest, without any healing whatsoever. Amariel bit her lip, emotions storming through her.

Sleep had a hard time claiming her that night. Most of the time, the elf was attempting to clear all thoughts off her mind; she needed space to think constructively and plan. But it was only when the sun was nearing the rise, when her eyelids finally drooped to a close.

 _"Amariel..." whispered a voice. A strangely familiar, beautiful voice. A voice she adored. But she only grumbled slightly in response. "_ _Amariel..." said the voice again. She opened her mouth, but could not answer. "Amariel... I love you. So much. You might not be able to see it now, but I promise, everything I did, it was for a reason. You have to trust me. Please, Amariel, please..." She wanted to reach out, see whoever it was who was pleading to her. But her eyes wouldn't open either. Who was it? Who loved her? What had happened? Who should she trust? "Amariel..."_

"Amariel!" Her eyes jolted open, sweat pouring down her body, making her clothes stick. Glancing down, she saw her arrow, and swallowed. It still hurt. She felt something that wasn't right flowing in her body. Tauriel stood above her, gently shaking her shoulder. "Come on, we must make haste!" Groaning, Amariel pulled herself up, teeth gritted together. The sun blinded her eyes, and she had to rub them a few times before they fully adjusted.

"You are pale, aren't you?" said Tauriel, examining Amariel, concerned. She staggered over to the trickling stream and glanced down at her wavering reflection. It was true, she was ghostly pale and there were deep black shadows beneath her sunken eyes. Her body looked so fragile, and her ribs were visible through her snagged clothing. All traces of beauty were gone, even her usually stunning eyes had lost their sparkle; their life. Amariel drew her head away from her reflection in disgust.

"I'm fine," she answered, not entirely truthful. "Anyway, we must hurry if we are going to make it to Lake Town before it's too late."

The elves continued to journey under dense thickets of trees, over vast rocky terrain, and through murky, swampy waters throughout the day. The ache in Amariel's side was gradually worsening, making them travel slower and slower and have more frequent stops. By the time the sun was again on the verge of the blotched sky of yellow and orange, Tauriel and Amariel were only a few days travel away from Laketown.

"We should stop now. You're too weak to continue, you need your rest," said the red headed elf, and Amariel gave a curt nod in answer. Exhaustion controlled every bone of her body as she curled up on a patch of grass. She hadn't had any food for days. They simply didn't have time to eat much, and there weren't many things to choose from either.

Sleep took her as soon as she closed her eyes, but it was restless. Another dream had crept into her mind.

 _She was no older than 1500 years old, and her heart was still innocent and free._

 _"Legolas?"_

 _"Yes?" His voice sent shivers down her spine._

 _"How much do you love me?" she asked, biting her lip. The beautiful male elf smiled._

 _"Look up to the sky, and count all of the stars. That's how much I love you."_

 _"But it's daytime!" The young girl said, her eyebrows furrowed._

 _"Exactly," he smirked, making the girl punch him lightly in the shoulder._

 _"I'm being serious!" But she giggled lightly nonetheless._

 _"Alright, alright," he said, chuckling. Then his eyes widened as he gazed into her stunning ones, taking in every detail. "I love you with everything I have. I love more than this kingdom, I love you more than I love myself, I love you more than this entire earth. If an arrow came at you, I would sacrifice myself without a second thought. I love_ —"

 _"Okay, okay, I get it! You love me a lot!" Amariel teased, but inside her heart thudded so loudly against her chest, that she feared that he might be able to hear it. Then, he lowered his head, so it was slowly coming towards hers. His eyes darted from her eyes to her lips, that had parted slightly without her consent. Closer and closer and closer and— He kissed her and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. His hand rested below her ear, his thumb caressing her cheek as their breaths mingled. She slid her fingers down his spine, pulling him closer until there was no space left between them and she could feel the beating of his heart against her chest. Her body was burning, alight with passion._

 _"I love you too," she muttered against his mouth. "Always."_

Reality hit Amariel all too soon as she woke up, the late morning sun, shining in her face. Her thoughts drifted back to her dream, as she fiddled absently with the intricate necklace around her neck. She wished she could go back to those days. Days when nothing else seemed to matter; it was just them. But even the thought of that hurt. Why did he have to do this to her?

Then she realised.

She realised that despite all he had done to her, all the agony he tormented her with, she still loved him. With all her heart. And that's what really hurt; the fact that she loved someone that had and would never truly reciprocate her feelings.

Suddenly, a voice called out from a little further down from where Amariel had slept.

"It is our fight. It will not end here. With every victory, this evil will grow. If your father has his way, we will do nothing. We will hide within our walls, live our lives away from the light, and let darkness descend. Are we not part of this world? Tell me, mellon _(Friend)_ , when did we let evil become stronger than us?"

Who was she talking to? Deciding to investigate, Amariel walked towards the area in which she had heard Tauriel's voice. It was awkward to walk when an arrow stuck out of you. She wanted to pull it out, but she knew that would only worsen her loss of blood, and it could become infected easier. She swatted odd thin branches out of her way as she walked through a patch of trees and gave a grimace every time a sharp twig would scratch her cheeks.

Eventually, Amariel saw Tauriel standing on the edge of a small cliff, gazing out into the distance, all alone. Her vibrant, long hair flickered in the light breeze, and her gorgeous red lips let out a little sigh.

"Oh, Kili, stay strong, please stay strong," she whispered, desperately, only just loud enough so Amariel could hear. There was a twinge in Amariel's chest as the words flooded her brain. Their love was so unlikely; a dwarf and an elf, supposed mortal enemies. And it was so pure as well, like nothing could tarnish it. And it was so strong, something she admired.

Accidently, Amariel's foot stepped on a twig, cracking it, and making Tauriel twist around, her dagger ready in hand. But she breathed out in relief, seeing it was only her travelling partner.

"Greetings, Amariel. I'm sorry, did I wake you? I thought you might need your sleep." She looked genuinely concerned, making the blonde elf feel touched.

"No you didn't, and thank you." She mustered a reassuring smile.

"Oh, good," she said. "Now there is someone I want you to meet. He just caught up to us this morning."

"Where is he?" asked Amariel, not having an extremely good feeling about who this person was.

"Well, I told him that my friend had a serious injury, so he's gone to collect some more water to cleanse it with," she answered. "He should be back soon."

Amariel gulped. "And, um, what's this person's name?"

"Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood."

 **Please rate and review!**


	13. Dreams Of Danger

**Hey! This chapter is late again! But lately I've been inspired by this story again, so hopefully the updates will be quicker. Actually, there will probably only be one or two more chapter left of The Desolation Of Smaug! I can't wait to start The Battle of the Five Armies, and to have more Legolas and Amariel moments!**

 **Disclaimer:** **I do not own The Hobbit or any of the characters, only Amariel and some insignificant others.**

Chapter Thirteen: Dreams of Danger

APOV

She had only one thought: Legolas had followed her after all. He hadn't abandoned her, he hadn't left her heartbroken like shards of glass. When Amariel didn't reply, Tauriel rose a perfect eyebrow, questioningly.

"Familiarity sparked within you, I saw it. How would you know the son of Mirkwood?" she asked.

"I, uh, we were—" Amariel felt her throat close up and her cheeks heat up. Tauriel gave a look, urging her to continue. "Well, um, it's quite a story, really..."

"We have time."

This was always a touchy subject for her, but for some reason, she felt like she could trust the red-headed elf. "Well, it all started many, many years ago. Probably before you were born or incredibly young. I, myself, was only an elfling, and found myself in the middle of a forest, lost, and without my parents... I don't even remember them, when Legolas came across and found me. He took me in, taught me the ways of the elves, taught me about the forests, the rivers... the stars. Needless to say, I eventually found myself in love with him, and the feeling was mutual. I continued to stay in the kingdom, experiencing some of the most wonderful days of my life. I grew older, became a great warrior, a elegant maiden, and was respected by everyone in the land. But then one day, it all came crashing down. It was the day of—of our wedding. Everything was seemingly perfect. But then, just before it started, the king's guards entered my room, and had me arrested. I was so confused. They seemed to think I was dangerous or something. They took me before King Thranduil; he interrogated me, asked me all these questions, but I had no idea what he was talking about, he... he mentioned my father. But I can't remember why. He banished me from Mirkwood on pain of death. I thought all hope was lost, when suddenly Legolas stormed in. He looked angrier than I had ever seen him before. While he and his father conversed, I waited outside. After what seemed like forever, we re-entered. Thranduil officially decreed my banishment, and when I pleaded for Legolas to tell his father the truth, that I hadn't done anything wrong, but instead he said the words that broke my entire soul into pieces: 'No, my father's right. You cannot stay here. Goodbye Amariel.'"

Tauriel's expression was unreadable. "Where did you go?"

"To Lothlórien. Lady Galadriel was kind enough to take me in. I vaguely remember having lived there before Legolas had found me. So, anyway, I stayed there for a good many years, adventuring, making friends, and gradually building myself back together again. But not matter how hard I tried, the heaviness in my heart would not vanish. Eventually, I decided it was all too much, and I left; went into exile in a small cottage in an isolated forest. I spent a long time there, in peace and plenty, forgetting the haunting past. However, one day, an old friend of mine visited me and persuaded me to come along on a quest to reclaim Erebor." Amariel took in a big breath then exhaled. "So, here I am."

She waited for a moment for Tauriel's comment. It only came after several minutes.

"So it's true then?" she queried, eyes glazed over with thought. "You're the maiden with violet eyes."

"Excuse me?"

Tauriel clarified. "When I first came to Legolas, as an elfling, like you, he taught me the ways of the world." Amariel pretended to not be bothered by that, but the tug in her chest betrayed her. Had he moved on that quickly? "And as he trained me, he always mentioned how much alike I was to the maiden with violet eyes. I found it strange how he always called her that; never her true name. But I soon found myself wanting to meet her, befriend her, see if she really was how the prince told."

"He talked about me?" Amariel's mind was spinning.

"Oh, yes. Especially when we were watching the stars. He said that they were so beautiful, ever-lasting, and... far away. Just like you." Tauriel gave a small smile. Her heart hitched. He had said that...? About her? Every time she seemed to have grasped answers, more mysteries arrived.

"Oh." Was all she could choke out.

"Amariel, I know I wasn't there in you past, but I do know Legolas. He is kind, forgiving, proud, and doesn't easily let go. Perhaps more happened than you think, perhaps all was not what it seemed."

Amariel was prepared to reply with: 'I doubt that,' but instead she ended up saying: "Perhaps." It was what she wanted to believe, but after such a long time of believing otherwise, could there really be a chance that Tauriel was right and everything 'was not what it seemed'? But she didn't have long to ponder the thought, because they were soon joined by the elf-of-conversation himself.

"Amariel!" he exclaimed as soon as he saw them. He leapt over to them, holding a bucket of fresh, clean water. "Are you well? I heard—the poison. You must be healed immediately." Amariel was taken aback by the concern in which his voice held. It was ages since he had spoken in that way to her. It reminded her of the old days.

"I, um, alright, I'm not dead—" she flushed, stumbling over her words. But it wasn't entirely true; her wound had in fact gotten worse since the incident, and she could now feel the thick poison, diseasing her blood.

Legolas placed one hand on the small of her back, making her shiver involuntarily. Luckily, it didn't seem that he noticed. "You must lie down; it will use less of your strength."

"Yes," she agreed and slowly lay down, squeezing her eyelids shut with the aching throbs. He bent over her, examining the arrow.

"Tauriel, go, find some Athelas as fast as possible. It will slow down the poison." Tauriel nodded and made haste back into the bush, leaving the two once-lovers alone.

"Legolas—"

"No, say nothing more. I need to apologize." Amariel froze. "I—I need to tell you everything." She was surprised to hear his voice break. "I know you must be feeling confused and bewildered and hurt, and I don't blame you. You've been through so much. You're so strong, Amariel, you always have been. And I know what I did to you was unforgivable, but please just listen, you need to hear."

All Amariel could do was was stiffly nod.

"It all started when I first met you. I knew you were different; you had so much spirit, despite what you had been through. And as the years drifted passed, before I knew it, I was in love with you. We had something special; unbreakable. Every word I said to you, Amariel, was no lie. My heart was truly yours. On the day of our wedding, when you got arrested, I was beyond anger. I stormed into the hall, after hearing what had happened and was prepared to fight for you. My father then talked to me privately, telling me you were dangerous, and your kind was not to be trusted. Of course, I didn't believe him. But then he told me something that changed everything. He said that if I did not comply, you would be executed. As much as I wanted to be with you, I could not have risked your death. It broke my heart when you turned to me and I sent you away, but I had no other choice. Please, everything I did, I did for you..."

She didn't know she had tears dripping from her eyes until he had finished. Her thoughts were blanked and senses blunt.

"You could have came with me," she eventually whispered softly.

"That would've meant us being hunted for goodness knows how long. That would've been a burden too great for you to bear; you were still so young."

"I don't care! If that meant we would have been together, then damn the consequences!"

"You would have died if he caught us!"

"Then we would have tried not to be caught!"

"Don't do this, Amariel," he warned.

"Do what, Legolas? My whole life has been a lie! A huge mess of confusion and doubt!" she shouted, tears spilling rapidly now. "I don't even know who I am!"

Pain, perplexion, blindness, pain, anger, regret, sadness, bitterness, pain; emotions stampeded her, dulling everything else. Except for his face. The blonde elf's face that was now morphing into an expression of shock. For a second her thoughts halted.

"What?"

Legolas' dark eyebrows furrowed. "Y—Your wound. It's healing itself... look." Curiosity cleansed her mind, and she peered down, then suppressed a gasp.

The skin around her injury was no longer swollen and dark red with thick blood, but back to normal and washed clean of all blood. It had healed, with only the remains of a thin white scar and an arrow left abandoned beside her.

She couldn't help herself. Her jaw dropped to the ground as her eyebrows shot upward. "How in Middle-earth?" Steadily, she stood up, wincing only slightly as she did. How was that even possible. No enchantment had been spoken or anything, it was almost like... no, but it couldn't have been. Amariel's mind then flickered back to months ago when her anger had overwhelmed her and a tree branch had almost squashed Thorin. It couldn't be related, could it?

Suddenly, Tauriel returned, clasping the Athelas in her pale hand. Upon seeing Amariel, standing and without blood, her mouth fell open, and the herbs dropped onto the rocks.

"What happened?"

Legolas and Amariel shared an uncertain look.

* * *

She didn't sleep well that night. The deep, piercing eyes and sharp features of Legolas prevented her any rest. His words echoed in her brain. Even though she felt as though his words held no lies, it still felt so wrong. The reason why was still unknown to her. And would she be able to forgive him after all she had been through? Why did it take so long for him to catch up to them? And what of the strange healing of her wound?

Trying to rid away all questions, Amariel gave a quick shake of her head, and subconsciously fiddled with the beautiful necklace that even now still hung around her neck. In a moment, her eyes had fluttered to a close and she was in the land of dreams... or nightmares.

 _It was night. A black abyss, the air thick, and clouds hanging low. She saw the remains of a stone castle. Vines grew unchallenged upon the cold rocks, and dead leaves littered the ground. Even in her unconsciousness, Amariel could sense the ancient evil that lingered, waiting, in the dungeons deep._

 _It was there where she saw Mithrandir, haggard-looking with the bags under his eyes, dark. He was searching the ruins, but for what, she remained clueless. He passed several hanging metal cages full of spikes, each with a skeleton chained inside._

 _"Cé ná ulco sís nurtaina... I ettuluvas caninye! Cánin i sá tanuvaxe!" the wizard chanted loudly, walking out onto an open platform and then striking his staff against the ground. A concealment-revealing energy bubble expanded around him. Nothing happened. He tried it again, and still nothing. The wizard's face hardened and he chanted the spell once more. Suddenly, Azog appeared out of nowhere, leaping at Mithrandir with his mace raised. Mithrandir only had the time to raise his sword and staff before Azog struck him with his mace, sending him and his weapons flying. He lay on the ground, grunting, unable to find the strength to stand, and watched in horror as multitudes of now-revealed orcs stand behind Azog. The Pale Orc snarled in glee, his one eye glinting in malice._

 _Azog then said something in the Black Speech, a tongue that was unknown to her. The Orc raised his mace and swung to finish Mithrandir off, but he managed to scramble up with his staff and point it at Azog in defence. The staff caused an invisible barrier, preventing Azog and his scum from attacking him._

 _"Where is your master?" demanded Mithrandir._

 _Azog roared and charged at him again, but the invisible barrier stopped him._

 _"Where is he?"_

 _The Pale Orc replied this time, a sickly snarl stuck on his scarred face._

 _Mithrandir backed into the corner of the platform; while holding Azog at bay with his staff, Mithrandir glimpsed down at the lower levels of the ruined castle, behind him and saw hordes of orcs and wargs below, all armed for war._

 _Azog spoke again, his lips curling back, revealing his sharp, yellowed teeth, then rose his mace, and Mithrandir swung his staff in response. There was a blinding flash of light and a thunderclap. When Azog and his orcs opened their eyes, the wizard had disappeared. But his hurried footsteps could still be heard._

 _Mithrandir ran through the ruins as a dozen orcs on wargs chased after him. He passed buildings and came onto a bridge then struck the stone wall with his staff, causing parts of it to crumble down, crushing the wargs on his tail and destroying the bridge._

 _In the distance, Azog roared; a utterly vile and terrifying sound. Mithrandir continued running onto a larger bridge when suddenly, a voice sounds out of the darkness._

 _"It was a horrible, horrible voice. A voice that sounded of nightmares, tortured souls, and undiminishable, unbreakable power. Also, a voice that she could not comprehend._

 _The wizard promptly stopped short as a massive cloud of shadow appeared on the bridge in front of him. There was no denying it. It was the Necromancer._

 _The wretched voice rung out again, tearing through her ears._

 _Mithrandir raised his staff and formed a protective spherical shield of light around himself. Tendrils of shadow tried to pierce the shield, but cannot. As the shadow continued pounding at the shield, Mithrandir struggled, and the shield grew smaller. Mithrandir yelled out, and the shield grew larger again. However, the shadow also grew even stronger, strong enough to disintegrate the bridge in front of his shield. To her dread, the shield became smaller and smaller, until it was barely bigger than its conjurer. The wizard opened his eyes in shock, and his shield completely disappeared, and he was shoved back. The shadow rushed at him, but he managed to form his shield again. He fell onto his knees, holding his staff above his head, his strength fading with his shield. Finally, the shadow pushed so hard that Mithrandir's shield collapsed, leaving him vulnerable._

 _The shadow morphed into a wreath of flames. The flames turned into the slit pupil of an eye, then slowly took the form of a tall man, wearing armor, and with a helmet shaped like spikes. It was the Evil One. It was Sauron. As Sauron approached, Mithrandir's staff burned and disintegrated away into nothing. The shadows picked Mithrandir up into the air and then slammed him down onto stones. They then hurled him into a wall and held him there. The wall around him crumbled and fell in the presence of Sauron. Sauron looked at Mithrandir and the flames around him seemed to explode, forming the Eye of Sauron with his body at the center like an iris. The wizard, recognizing the Necromancer for what it really was, moaned out his name, while his face was getting covered with burns._

 _"Sauron."_

 _Amariel felt herself stare into the Wicked One's eye, and felt intense power surge within her veins. It was hypnotic. But then the feeling was overtaken with a more urgent one: Fear._

Amariel woke in a cold sweat, her heart thumping painfully, and her features alert. There was no doubt on whether her dream was true or not. She could feel that her friend was endanger and she needed to help him. She had to go to him. And she knew exactly where to start looking: Dol Guldur. Without a moment to spare, Amariel got up and started to collect the few belongings that she had with her, and rolled up the blanket that Legolas had brought with him and given to her. For a second, she paused and held the blanket to her nose, sniffing in the beautiful odor of fresh leaves and oak wood. It smelled of him.

"What are you doing?" Came the whisper of a suspicious voice. Immediately, Amariel dropped the blanket and spun around, a flush darkening her cheeks.

"Uh, I, nothing," she replied, wishing that her lie sounded more convincing.

Legolas glanced at her packed belongings and quirked an eyebrow. "A little early to be packed, is it not?"

"Well, I thought that, perhaps..." she drowned off, under his piercing gaze. He came closer, so swiftly that if it wasn't for the soft breeze of his breath on her face that made it difficult to concentrate, she would've doubted that he'd moved at all.

"Amariel, where are you going?" he asked, searching her face.

Finding it pointless to lie anymore, she told him the truth, and hoped for the best. "I'm going after Mithrandir, I feel that he is in great danger."

"What sort of danger?"

"He has returned, Legolas, Sauron has returned," she whispered, her shaky words betraying the brave face she attempted to put on.

Legolas' face was unreadable as she tried to dig out his reaction. It was quiet for a long time before he finally spoke. "How do you know this?"

"I don't for sure. But I've been seeing these things in my dreams of late. Strange, terrifying things, that I have all found to be true." Amariel didn't know why she was telling him this. She hadn't told anyone yet. And most of her was still angry with him for ruining her life. But for some odd reason, she felt like it was safe to tell him. That he would believe her.

"And what are these dreams like?" he asked.

"Well, some of them show what is happening in the present, all the dangers. My first dream was about Azog, before anyone knew he was still alive. And then some of them are about my past. Those ones are more like memories, brought back from a dark, unreachable part of my mind."

"That is very interesting. And what do most of these dreams of the past include? Your parents? Your background? Your home, perhaps?"

Amariel swallowed involuntarily as he spoke, already knowing her answer, and was not happy about saying it at all. But what else she could she say? And she was such a horrible liar, that he would weasel the truth out of her eventually no doubt.

She squeezed shut her eyes and slowly whispered. "You."

"Me?" Legolas asked, sincere shock evident on his face as she reopened her eyes.

"Yes," she mumbled, the earlier blush reappearing in an even darker shade.

"Why?"

"I don't know," she muttered, even though she had a very good idea of why. That answer would be much, much to embarrassing to share with him.

The elf stared at her, unsatisfied by her response, but nevertheless acceptant. "Your dreams do sound rather strange and terrifying as you put it, but they also sound believable. Although I've never experienced it or had anyone else close to me experience it either until now, I have heard about these things happening, but of course it is very rare. I don't what causes it or why it happens but your vision could be quite helpful, if what you have said has actually happened, and Sauron has returned."

Amariel absorbed his every word, even though at the end his summary wasn't entirely anything new to her. Suddenly, her thoughts jolted back to Mithrandir, and urgency flooded through her again.

"I have to leave. I've told you why, now you need to let me go," she said, almost daring him to disagree with her.

"Amariel, if it's true, then it is much too dangerous for you to go after him. It'll be pointless."

"It won't be pointless!" she argued back, heating up.

"It will be when you get captured and tortured just like him!"

Amariel winced at the word 'tortured' but not for her sake, for her old friend's, that could—for all she knew—be dead. "I won't leave him to torment and death!"

"Be as that may. You will have to wait for the opportune moment. Not go storming in there, on a stupid, faulty rescue mission," he fired back, and much to her annoyance, making a good point. "And besides, what happened to going after your other dwarvish friends? Do you not think that Mithrandir can take care of himself?"

"Not against Sauron he can't! You don't know what I saw, Legolas. It was a nightmare come true. Quite literally!"

"All I'm asking is that you take one careful step at a time," he said, eyeing her carefully.

"Why?" she said sourly, although she had already given in... for now. "Why do you care so much?"

"Because..." he started, unsurely. "I don't want to lose you again."

For a quick second, her breath stopped. Her head felt unusually light, and her vision became blurred. All train of thought had left her. She licked her lips finding them strangely dry. Perspiration appeared on beads upon her neck, despite the mild weather.

"Legolas..." she whispered, her voice surprisingly hoarse. Confusion dominated all other emotions. In a single stride, Legolas' face was hardly a foot away from hers. Panic throbbed in her chest but she found herself unable to move. Slowly, she tilted her head toward him and he mirrored her actions. Their breaths mingled as one, flickering onto her slightly open lips. His head bent further down, coming closer and closer and—

"Amariel? Legolas? What are you doing? I was wondering where you were—" Tauriel said, appearing out of nowhere. Instantly, our heads snapped back. Suddenly realisation dawned on her beautiful face, upon seeing the elves staring away awkwardly in opposite directions, red staining their cheeks. "—Oh. I'm sorry, I can leave if you'd like. It's still early, you've got plenty of time..."

"No!" They said in synchronisation. She couldn't stand the thought of being left alone with Legolas again. She had thought that she could keep herself in control with him near, but apparently her body had other ideas. It had been so close... too close to destruction. The pain had only just started to become bearable, even after having spent decades and decades of trying to numb the torment. And all that could have returned in an instant just because of her recklessness. It could never get that close again.

"Alright, then we should probably get going. The earlier we get to Laketown, the better," she said, and then walked over to pack up her few items.

Amariel's thoughts automatically turned back to her wisest friend, her mentor, the closest thing she had to a father, getting tortured in the one place where Middle-earth's most deadliest enemy had just returned. It took all her self-control to keep herself from running off to rescue him right then, but it was like what Legolas had said, that would be a recipe for disaster.

"Wait, please, only for a little longer," he said, almost pleading, as if he could read her mind. She nodded once in response, and then walked away over to the red-headed beauty, with no reason other than to try and avoid the concerned looks the handsome blonde elf was sending her.

They travelled for the majority of the rest of the day, stopping only to nibble at the Lembas bread that the Prince had brought, and to discuss the best and quickest course to get to Laketown. The environment had also began to change, she had noticed, the dry, rocky terrain and warm climate had all but disappeared as they neared the town, and was replaced with green surfaces, forested areas, and chillier weather. Legolas estimated that they would get to their destination as around twilight.

* * *

Just after midday, they came to a river, which compared to the green murky ones that they had passed earlier, was exceedingly pleasant. The water was a deep blue and sparkling, and it was so still and peaceful that their reflections were reflected back unwavering and perfect. Well, Tauriel and Legolas' were reflected perfectly; Amariel could hardly call what she saw in the cool waters perfect. But at least she looked better than she did when she saw herself last.

"I say we stop for a bit and freshen ourselves up. Look at Amariel, her clothes are close to fully red with blood," Tauriel said, grimacing at the sight of Amariel's dress.

"Very well," Legolas agreed, and took a seat on a large, flat rock.

Tauriel stared at him for a while, then cleared her voice. "With all due respect, Legolas, do you mind not watching us bathe?"

The elf turned a light shade of pink at her words. "Yes, sorry, I didn't exactly register..." He mumbled more to himself than them as he glided off into the forest, his bow and arrow in hand.

Not bothering to get undressed, Amariel wandered into the river, wincing as the cold seeped into her bones. As soon as she was waist deep in the water, she realised that the liquid around her was turning dark brown with dirt and deep red with the old blood that was coming off her clothes. She kept moving forward, steadily getting used to the crispness of the water, and soon ducked her entire head under, drenching her long brown dreadlocks, returning them to blonde curls. Scrubbing at the dried mud and cleaning the tiny cuts clean, Amariel heard Tauriel climb out of the river herself. That meant that soon they would be moving on. She swam back to the grassy bank, and sat there, squeezing the water out of her hair, and emptying her leather boots.

"So," said Tauriel, sitting down next to her. "You and Legolas looked rather close this morning."

A blush polished her pale cheeks. "Uh, I suppose."

"I see the way he looks at you, Amariel. It's different from anything I've ever seen. I've never really known love before, at least not the kind you and him have," Tauriel smiled, but there was a faraway longing in her stunning eyes.

Amariel cleared her throat, ignoring the red-head's false assumptions, and pushed the topic from herself. "I think you have, Tauriel."

She looked up, startled, and in question. "What?"

"Although my love life is all but gone and destroyed, I know enough about it to know that what you have with Kili is no simple connection. It's strong, wild, free, courageous, and completely insane!" She smiled a bit, and Tauriel returned it but still looked unsure. "An elf and a dwarf? That's never been heard of before. But yet that's what makes it so beautiful. True love is absolutely unbreakable and unconditional."

"I don't know, I don't know anything. It feels so irrational. It is so irrational!"

"That's what it always feels like in the beginning," Amariel said using a smile to cover the regret and grief within.

"It would never be allowed. Thranduil would never let me. I've already betrayed his orders."

"Exactly. And why not do it again? He doesn't own you, Tauriel, he can't make all the decisions of your life for you. He hates love only because his own experience was so painful. You need to live. Live for everything, and anything."

"Thank you, Amariel. I really needed that. I'm still not certain on what path is ahead of me, I don't think anyone does, but that doesn't really matter. I'll make my way, not anyone else's."

"Your welcome. I'm glad I'm useful at at least something."

"And I'm glad you're here, I really am. It's nice to have someone to confide in; a friend."

And for that moment, everything was alright. Not perfect, no, but not horrendous and full of sorrow. Not like anything they were about to face next.

 **Please rate and review!**


	14. Under Attack

Chapter Fourteen: Under Attack 

APOV

Not soon later, Legolas returned and abruptly stopped upon seeing his travelling companions. Or in other words, one particular travelling companion. Amariel felt a wave of self consciousness as the perfect elf's eyes trailed over her cleansed body. She also felt Tauriel smirking uncharacteristically at her side. No-one spoke until the silence became unbearabley awkward. She couldn't stand Legolas' piercing eyes for one second longer.

"Uh, should we get back to our walk now since we're refreshed?"

Legolas ignored her question. "Amariel—" he began, his deep, beautiful voice laced with admiration. "You look absolutely fetching!"

Her heart stammered and her stomach felt both heavy and empty at once. _No_ , her mind brought her back to earth. He's only being polite. He probably said that to most maidens in his kingdom. That thought made a claw of jealousy rip through her. But then again, if that was true, why didn't he compliment Tauriel? She was looking just as clean and pretty as her, if not more.

"T-Thanks," she stuttered out, flushing. How unlike an elf she was! Elves do not stutter.

Sensing tension, Tauriel gratefully stepped in. "I agree. We must carry on. Kili—I mean the dwarves will need as much help as possible when the orcs attack."

Legolas drew his eyes away from Amariel to give the red-head a slightly suspicious look. "Remember, our main priority in Laketown is to destroy all the vile creatures that threaten our kingdom, _not_ the dwarves."

Both the She-elves nodded, but then shared a secret knowing glance. After all, that was the only really reason why Amariel was going to the town anyway. _Not the only reason..._ A voice nagged at her. Amariel's eyes wandered back to the Prince of Mirkwood and she couldn't help but notice how in the rays of the sun his hair shone not only white blonde, but darker shades were picked up too. How his irises twinkled a bluebonnet colour, how his cut-glass cheekbones became even more pronounced, and not for the first time she wondered how a being could be so flawless.

...

Eventually, at Twilight—just as Legolas predicted—they arrived at the shores of the Lake. The remainder of the journey had been much easier without muck, dirt, and blood stuck to her and its stench flowing up her nostrils. But still her head hasn't been so lucky to be rinsed of its thoughts. Terrifying images of what Mithrandir could be going through every second flickered inside her, like sketches in an art book.

When they came to the Lake, a small wooden row boat was waiting for them, tied up, and ebbing with the tide. It was tight, but they were all able to fit in, but unfortunately they had to leave their rations behind.

Legolas was in control of the boat, using its one oar to guide us. Amariel sat at the bow, dipping her hand in the freezing waters, trying not to focus on her worries. Suddenly, from out of the fog she saw a stunning, towering mountain. It was so beautiful that it took her breath away. _The Lonely Mountain... Erebor..._ After all that she had been through, she had finally arrived at her destination. The hard, tiresome journey would've been worth it even if it was just to see this astonishing sight. She couldn't imagine what the dwarves would've felt.

Half an hour later, Legolas interuppted the silence, claiming that the gates to the town were just ahead.

"What should we do?" she asked. "It's not as if we can just go through. The guards will see us and report back to King Thranduil."

"No, we'll have to climb," said Tauriel.

"What? You mean the gates?"

"Yes. They go all around the town and every area can't be guarded at once," explained Legolas.

"Um, alright. But do you really think we'll be able to manage it?" Amariel bit her lip in question.

"We'll have to be quick, but yes, I think we can." Tauriel answered. Legolas steered the boat around to the southern border, and the three of them prepared to jump out and climb.

"Three, two, one," Amariel muttered, then flung herself out, slipping her hands through some holes in the wood. It wasn't an easy climb, even for an elf; the gates were at least 25 feet high—and her fear of heights didn't help—with hardly anything to grip onto. Finally, she made it onto the other side, placing her feet down onto the boardwalk. Not surprisingly, she was the last one down.

"Okay, now what?" Her question was answered by a shriek that erupted into the otherwise disturbingly silent air. It sounded like it belonged to a girl not far away.

"They're here," Legolas almost growled, spotting a few of the orcs on a nearby rooftop. He readied his daggers, and took an arrow into his hand before running toward one of the shack-like houses. Tauriel and her exchanged a swift look before following. Amariel felt concern vibrate in her veins. Not for herself, but for her former companians. Were the dwarves still in the house being attacked? Or had they left? Hopefully they had, for the sun had set; the last light of Durin's Day. But obviously some people were in there, or the orcs wouldn't of attacked.

Before she knew it she had fallen behind the two, being so deep in thought. She gritted her teeth in annoyance and sped up. She was a few houses away when she started to hear the clashes of swords, smashing of furniture, whistling of arrows, and grunting of orcs. The ugly creatures swarmed the area like ants did to honey. One orc, smelling her presence, charged over to her. Ducking his blow, she unsheathed her dagger and plunged it into his back. Her first thought when she entered the house was how awful it smelled. The odor brought back a wave of bad memories. For a moment she thought it was the orcs, but then she saw a skeleton-like Kili and realised it was the smell of poison.

"Kili!" she called, making her way to him whilst slashing down orcs. He was as pale as ever, his eyes were black hollows, and leg was soaked with dry blood. Hearing her call through his haze, he looked up and gave what would've been a smile but turned out to be more like a grimace.

"Amariel," he choked."You followed us."

"Of course, you didn't think I would leave my best friends behind, would you?" she attempted cheer him up.

He managed a real smile this time before an urgent look crossed his face. "Look out!" She was only just able to roll out of the way in time. She kicked the oncoming orc where he didnt want to be kicked, and he fell to the floor in pain.

She turned back to her dwarf friend. "Where are the others?"

"They left to the mountain. Ori, Bofur, and Fili stayed behind with me. I was too weak to go with them," he said, distastefully, grimacing with the pain in his leg. Amariel patted him on the back.

"You will see the halls of your forefathers, I promise. I'm going to get you out of here." And with that she entered back into the fight. She flung her dagger around with as much accuracy as she could muster. Left and right, orcs collapsed onto the floor. For a while she was going well, deflecting and dodging, until a certain orc took her by surprise, cutting her hand, so she dropped her dagger and fell to the ground. Her hand stung but she ignored it, there were more important things to worry about. Like the fact that she didn't have a weapon. Stupidly, she had left her bow and arrow in the boat.

The orc's bruised up face stared down at her, licking his black lips. "Now doesn't this look tasty?" Amariel squeezed shut her eyes. She didn't want to die looking into that horrific face. But death was not the thing that she felt; it was a cool hand taking her hand. She didn't need to open her eyes to know who it was, but she did anyway.

"Why are you always saving my life?" she asked, gripping his hand tighter as he hauled her up.

Legolas sent her one of his dashing smiles before following after more orcs. To her surprise, the creatures seemed to be retreating. Soon, the only people eft were Tauriel, Legolas, herself, the dwarves, and a boy and two girls who she hadn't noticed before now.

"You killed them all," marvelled the boy.

"There are others. Tauriel, Amariel, come," said Legolas, walking purposely toward the door, before he realised no-one was following him. Tauriel was watching Kili with a mixture of pain and love on her features.

"We're losing him!" cried Oin, who was looking after him. It was true, the dwarf looked more like a ghost than anything else. A throbbing began in Amariel's heart. She was not going to just let her friend die. A look of shock captured Tauriel's face and she glanced between Kili and Legolas in indecision.

Legolas noticed it too. "Tauriel," he urged. With one final glance, Legolas left them. Amariel was about to go kneel next to her dying friend when he lifted his head to meet her eyes. He was too weak to speak but the message he was making was clear. A tear formed and rolled down her cheek but she nodded nevertheless. And before she could change her mind, she followed the holder of her heart out of the door.

The first thing that hit her was the chill of the air. Goosebumps appeared on her pale skin and the tip of her nose turned pink. But it wasn't necessarily that sort of cold she felt, it was the icy feeling that something horrible was about to happen. Like when someone enters a haunted mansion, or travels through dark forests at night.

Up ahead, she saw Legolas gracefully jump over a wooden bridge. He didn't seem to notice her presence which was unusual since his senses were so sharp. Perhaps he was to focussed on the orcs whom he was still pursuing. They kept on coming at him and although they were no match to the elf, one could see that he was slowly tiring. He needed her.

Suddenly, she heard warg cries and a ghastly, familar voice. The voice of the orc that had shot her friend. Instantly, she felt a new surge of adrenaline. As Legolas entered into a long alley, Azog's spawn stepped in from the other side. Glaring at the monster, Legolas whipped out Orcrist, Thorin's sword, which he had been carrying at his hip. Holding it in both hands, he advanced toward his enemy. Amariel pushed herself to run faster and, with her luck, tripped over a straw basket.

"Pen-channas _(Idiot)_ ," she muttered to herself as she got back up onto her feet. When she looked up she saw Legolas and the orc walking toward each other when suddenly two smaller orcs appeared out of hiding spots on either side of the alley and attacked him. He knocked the two of them down just in time to deflect a blow from the main orc. The other two orcs recovered and charged, making Legolas fight at all angles. Amariel's heart was beating fast enough even before she found out that their enemy was in fact indestructible. His only reaction to an elvish sword being plunged into his stomach was a wicked smirk as he pulled the blade further in. Suddenly the orc took Legolas and threw him against a wooden pillar. Amariel's hands flew to cover her mouth. Before he could get up, the orc grabbed him and threw him again, this time into a wall. Fury rushed inside of her as she finally arrived at the alleyway. The monster strided over and kicked at Legolas, but Amariel jumped in, and stabbed him in the gut. He let out a low groan. But it was more of annoyance than actual pain.

Next thing she knew, his head hit hers with such strength that white light crowded her view and she was thrown backward. Legolas managed to grab the orc's leg and knock him off balance and into the wall behind him. Amariel blinked a few times to try and see clearly again. Even when her sight became clearer, it was still tinged with red. Legolas leaped in the air and delivered a flying punch to the orc's face, before grabbing him and smashing his head repeatedly into the wooden post. Standing up, Amariel threw her dagger, hitting him in the shoulder.

In a fit of rage, the orc turned and grabbed Legolas in a crushing embrace against his chest. He squeezed, making the elf strain in pain. She went for her knife, before realising it was still stuck in the orc's shoulder. Glaring, she walked up to him, threw her arm back and punched him in the face. A jolting pain went through her whole body as she hit the metal plates, and she cursed through her teeth. The punch hadn't done much to the orc but it had given Legolas time. He jerked his head back into his enemy's face, forcing him to release him. Legolas then managed to pull out a knife and slice him on the stomach, but the orc caught him and chucked him toward the other two orcs, who had gotten back up.

Immediately, the two blonde elves joined each other's side, and together fought the orcs, while their leader limped away. Attack. Dodge. Defend. Stab. They were the words that went through her head again and again. Soon, they had dispatched the orcs, and Amariel was feel exhausted. Well, more than she usually did. She glanced sideways at Legolas. He was leaning against the pole, a look of shock plastered onto his face. Confused, she was going to ask, before she saw the drizzle of blood trickling out of his one nostril. Blood. His blood. And elf hardly ever sees its own blood, they're too perfect. Legolas of all people would be the last she'd expected to see bleeding. But that orc had changed that. And Legolas was sure not to forget. Amariel herself always seemed to be bleeding, so when she felt the blood on her forehead, she wasn't too stressed.

"Will you ride with me?" Legolas asked, cutting through her thoughts.

"I—" Would she ride with him? She had already left Kili, Tauriel and her other friends alone. Tomorrow, they would be heading to the mountain to reunite with the rest of their kin. If she stayed she could see her Bilbo again. She felt her heart tug longingly towards her brave little friend. Could she leave him alone for even longer? Could she leave everyone alone? No, she couldn't. Not everyone. "Yes."

Legolas gave a small smile, before giving two quick whistles. For a second nothing happened. Then a handsome white horse came cantering out from behind the corner of a house.

"He's lovely," she marvelled, stroking his neck.

"Quick, we have no time to spare," prompted Legolas, swiftly mounting the horse. He held out his hand, and she accepted it. He pulled her on behind him and charged after the orc and his warg.


	15. Blood In The Breeze

**Hey guys! I know, another very late update. But it will get done, I promise... eventually:) But anyway, I quite like this chapter as it's got some cute Legolas x Amariel moments but I especially can't wait for what's going to be happening next! I have just recently planned out BOTFA properly and I can assure you that you're going to love it! Anyway I won't hold you up any longer. Please enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or any of the characters, only Amariel and insignificant others.**

Chapter Fifteen: Blood In The Breeze

APOV

It was twilight when Amariel Lórien finally awoke to the echoing clops of hooves against stone. The orange and pinky glow of dusk had given to a deep purple dusted with porcelain stars, and the clouds hung low in the colour of ashen grey. Her eyes were still adjusting to the darkened surroundings before her, as her brain struggled to remember where she was. The land around her was slightly tilted so she assumed she must be leaning on something or someone. It was then the familiar smell of oak wood and fresh green leaves wafted up her nostrils. Suddenly, the recent events caught up to her and she let out a long unladylike groan.

"Amariel? Are you awake?" Legolas asked, peering over his shoulder.

"Mm, yeah," she answered.

"Well that's good. I was going to have to wake you up soon anyway," he said then she could hear him smirk. "Oh and by the way, did you know that you drool?"

Amariel's cheeks tinted red. "I do not!"

"Yes you do. All over my back."

"No, I do not! Look—" She reached out to touch his back and to her horror felt a very damp patch on his shoulder.

If possible, her blush darkened. "I-I, um, did not do that, alright?" But her awkward stammer obviously gave her away.

He gave a small smile. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

She glared at him and then tried pushing the embarrassing subject from herself. "So, how's your nose?"

Any traces of his earlier smirk vanished. "It's fine," he answered shortly.

"Oh okay," she said, awkwardly. For a few seconds, she just sat there listening to the rhythmic beat upon the stone ground beneath her.

"Amariel?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for assisting me back in Laketown. I could've been dead if not for you."

Again, a blush crawled back onto her face. Damn, she really needed to stop doing that. But around Legolas it seemed that she couldn't help it. "Uh, no problem, I guess."

"No really, Amariel, I mean it. You were very brave and you saved me even after everything I've done to you. I just want you to know that I—" A thunderous roar echoed through the plains, chilling her to the bone. She didn't just hear it; she felt it.

"What in Middle-earth was that?" she choked out.

The blonde elf stopped the horse and glanced over his shoulder. "Look for yourself."

After giving a noticeable swallow and wiping the blood off her lips, she spun her head around.

It was a horrifying sight, even from a distance. The bells were ringing, houses were almost completely engulfed in the fiery red flames, and heavy smoke suffocated mercilessly; it was like kicking someone in the gut when they were already on the ground. Despite the roaring of the fires and the sharp, loud cracking of the houses as they crumbled to the ground, the lake people's screams and howls of agony and torment could still be heard. And then there was the dragon, Smaug, himself. He was the definition of ferocious in both size and stature. His scales were like dark shields, his wings were like hurricanes, his claws were the sharpest of swords, his teeth were like jagged rocks, and his chest held fire like an amber snake, ready to strike at any moment. The scene playing out in front of her was frightening, ghastly, nightmarish, and absolutely monstrous. But most of all, it was hopeless. There was nothing these people could do to stop the beast. It was never their fault that this misfortune had fell upon them. No, it wasn't there fault at all. It was hers. And there was nothing she could do about it.

"It's all my fault, Legolas," she choked out, barely holding back tears. "It's all my fault!"

"No, none of this is your fault. You have nothing to blame yourself on."

"Yes I do. I did this to them. I did this to these innocent people! I was apart of the company that agreed to reclaim Erebor and defeat the dragon. They set the dragon upon this town. And what's on their conscience is on mine too!" she said, beginning to shout in desperation. Why was she always such a mess?

Legolas jumped off the horse and stared Amariel right in the eye. "Look at me," he ordered, and she obliged. "This is not your fault! You never meant for this to happen. I know you, Amariel, you'd rather die yourself than watch others suffer. You are the last person to blame for this mess."

All she could do was nod. No-one would ever be able to comfort her the way Legolas did. His voice. His demeanour. His everything just soothed every doubt from her mind. It was alright. It wasn't her fault. But that didn't mean she could just stand back and watch.

"We have to go back. They need all the help they can get. I am not going to forsaken them," she said with sudden determination.

"I know you're going through a rush of emotions right now. But I don't think going back is the best idea. I tracked down the orc from Laketown for long enough to discover who he is. A spawn of Azog the Defiler. But there is a lot more we can discover if we keep tracking him."

"I'm sorry, Legolas. But I cannot turn away. My friends are back there. Tauriel, Kili, Fili. I'm not going to leave them again. Not now. When they need me most."

Amariel searched his face for a response but it was unreadable. Seconds past, turning into minutes. Amariel tapped her fingers impatiently and glanced back at the town. Another ear-splitting roar rang out, making her flinch. If he didn't say something soon, she was just going to leave.

"Fine," he said eventually and she let out a sigh. "My head is telling me I'm making the wrong choice but I'll ride back. For you." His last words left her heart fluttering. But there was no time to lose. They needed to get going. He mounted back onto the horse in one swift movement and began cantering back the way they had came.

...

As they rode, the air slowly became heavier and warmer, and the cries and shrieks became louder and louder until it was almost unbearable. She wanted to tell Legolas to go faster but she knew he was already going as fast as he could. After about an hour of rapid travelling and harsh winds against her face, the town came into a view only a few miles away. It was then when it happened. Only through her sharp elf eyes she could spot it: a Black Arrow speeding through the air and piercing itself into the dragon's hide. Smaug gasped for breath, crashing through the buildings as he clawed up toward the sky. It looked as if he was drowning. His eyes gave one last final glow as the fire in his chest diminished to nothing and he toppled down below.

It took her a moment to comprehend what had just happened. He was dead. Smaug was dead! His ire no longer haunted these lands. Erebor has truly been reclaimed. She spared a glance at Legolas, but as usual his face was expressionless. Then the truth of the situation hit her. Yes, they had won, but at what expense? Countless had been slain. Women had become widows. Children had become orphans. Men had become widowers.

By the time Legolas and Amariel had reached the banks of the Lake, it was morning and the sky was a smokey blue. Wreckage was everywhere, some of it still burning. People were crying out and sobbing as dead bodies washed up on the shore. A few meters ahead, Tauriel and Kili were talking, obviously saying their farewells. Her heart was overjoyed to see her friends all alive and unscathed, especially Kili whose wounds had thankfully healed. Seeing the red-haired elf and dwarf together both pleased and saddened Amariel. It was wonderful that Tauriel had found her true love and had, perhaps, even confessed that to him. She was most certain that he had to her. But it saddened her because it reminded her of herself and Legolas when their love was strong and innocent. Although, everything these days seemed to remind her of him.

Suddenly, Tauriel's ears perked up slightly and she realised who was standing behind her. "Hîr nín, Legolas. _(My Lord, Legolas.)_ " Kili peered over Tauriel's shoulder with hostility as he saw Legolas, but then his eyes softened as he spotted Amariel.

"Maewado i Naug. _(Take your leave of the dwarf.)_ " Legolas ordered much to her, Kili, and Tauriel's despair. "Boe i nadh egeno. _(You are needed elsewhere.)_ "

Tauriel looked at Kili for a few more seconds, then, torn by her duty, began to turn away. Kili, too, sadly turned toward his dwarvish friends who were launching a boat into placid waters. Then, rather abruptly, he paused and spun around, hurrying back to Tauriel. He took her hand and carefully placed a black stone into it, folding her fingers closed over it. She gasped and looked at him as he started to get close to her face, pushing her hands to his heart.

"Keep it. As a promise." They shared a small smile before Kili gave a curt nod at Amariel and ran towards the boat. Her violet eyes followed after him, a part of her wishing to go with them. But somehow she just couldn't. She turned to look at Legolas who was gazing at Tauriel with... no, it couldn't be; but it was. There was an unmistakable look of jealousy in his sharp blue eyes. Her breathing started to become ragged and she bit her lip. She had thought that maybe they had bonded over the last day or two. But obviously she was wrong. His heart was truly Tauriel's. And she didn't even know. Well looking at it now, it was clear why he liked her. She was so much more beautiful than her, more athletic than her, and she was confident not awkward like her. She was a true elf, so much unlike her.

Legolas then finally moved his gaze to her, but she couldn't quite meet his eyes. "Amariel, you should go into the woods over there and collect firewood for these people. They'll need it." She nodded, without speaking. "Tauriel, you'll come with me to help the wounded." Of course he wanted her to go with him. _Stop it!_ Her mind yelled. This was not the time to be jealous. That was the least of her problems right now.

She turned on her heel to head into the woods when she almost collided with a middle-aged woman carrying a few dozen blankets in her arms. "I'm sorry. I didn't see you."

"That's alright, dearie." She looked closely at Amariel. "Wait, I know you. You were that elf that was travelling with them dwarves!"

"Yes, I was. I'm sorry about the misfortune they brought on you by releasing the dragon."

"It's in the past now. All we need to be focusing on at the moment is tending to the sick and finding food and shelter," the woman said, giving a tight smile and handing over some of the blankets. "Here give these out."

Amariel took the blankets and sent one last smile at the woman before walking away. In less than three minutes all the blankets were gone, taken by the tear and smoke stained faces of the lakesmen. Then she headed over to the thin group of trees. Some men were already hacking away at the trees with axes while little children tugged at their shirts, begging for food. Another wave of guilt came crashing down on her. It was her fault that these children had fled their homes as they burned to a crisp. It was her fault that their stomachs now grumbled and their bodies shivered against the morning chill. But then just as her throat started to constrict with her grief, she found Legolas' voice whispering in her head. _"This is not your fault! You never meant for this to happen. I know you, Amariel, you'd rather die yourself than watch others suffer. You are the last person to blame for this mess."_ It was funny how his words calmed her, when it was his words that broke her in the first place. She was like a broken vase. Something that used to be beautiful and admired by everyone. But now that it had been broken and raggedly glued back together, it was only pitied and cast aside. Just waiting to shatter into a million pieces again. And just as yet another wave of self-pity was about to wash over her, his voice prevented it from doing so. _"You're so strong, Amariel, you always have been."_ Yes, she needed to remain strong. These people needed her. The dwarves needed her. Bilbo and Mithrandir needed her.

Once she had gathered a good amount of twigs and sticks, she trampled back over to where most of the people were gathered on the stoney beach. Most were picking up important possessions that they were able to save or any sorts of survival supplies, while herding any family members together. By the looks of it, they were preparing to leave. How long had she been gone? Glancing up at the sky and noticing the position of the sun, she guessed it was more or less and hour. It wasn't hard to find Legolas. His blonde hair stood out like a light amongst darkness. He was approaching a dark-haired man who was helping with supplies and directing people in the right way.

"Take only what you need. We have a long march ahead," the man said.

"Where will you go?" Legolas asked.

"There is only one place." Amariel followed his gaze to Erebor which stood majestically over the misty lake.

"The mountain!" said a hunch-backed, unpleasant-looking man with a prominent monobrow. "You are a genius, sire. We can take refuge inside the mountain. It might smell a bit of dragon — the women can clean up. It will be safe and warm and dry, and full of stores, bedding, clothing... the odd bit of gold." Who did this man think he was? What gold in that mountain was not his. And how dare he demean women like that? They were worth a hundred times more than him!

"What gold is in that mountain is cursed. We will take only what was promised to us — only what we need to rebuild our lives," the dark-haired man replied sternly as he dumped a pile of sticks into 'Monobrow's' hands. He then turned around and discarded the sticks into the woman who recently been handing out the blankets' hands. She stumbled slightly under the weight.

"Here — pull your wait." He was about to walk away, when she stepped in front of him.

"Excuse me. Who do you think you are?"

"It's none of your business, pointy-ears," he spat, trying to get past her.

"Maybe. But that does not mean that I cannot interfere," she says and dumped the pile of stick that she was carrying into his arms. "Now, pull your weight." Leaving Monobrow with his mouth wide open in frustration, Amariel took the pile of wood out of the blanket woman's arms and smiled before walking away to place it with the rest of the bundles. Looking to her right, she found that the dark-haired man and Legolas were still conversing, so decided to join them again.

"News of the death of Smaug will have spread through the lands," states Legolas.

"Aye."

"Other's will now look to the mountain — for its wealth, or its position."

The dark-haired man turned around and looked at Legolas with slight suspicion. "What is it you know?"

"Nothing for certain. It's what I fear may come," he answered, staring out into the distance.

"We do know, however, that evil stirs in Mirkwood. It seems that Azog the Defiler will not be our only enemy," she explained, entering the conversation.

"How do you know this?" he asked.

For a second, she had no idea what to say. How could she tell him that it came to her in a dream? Legolas might believe her but that did not mean everyone would. "Uh, let's just say that I have seen many things on my travels here. And I warn you now to take caution."

He nodded courteously at her. "What is your name, She-elf?"

"Amariel."

"Greetings Amariel, my name is Bard." He took her hand and gave it a quick peck. The gesture made her feel happy. It was nice to feel like a maiden again; to be respected and treated kindly.

Legolas cleared his throat. "Amariel, come now, we must go," he said, pulling her away from the Bard.

"Wherever to? Is this not where we are needed most?"

"I'm afraid there is elsewhere we must be. The bowman and your dwarvish friends need to be warned of all the enemies that will come after the mountain."

"Bard is a bowman?"

"He is the dragon-slayer, Amariel. He was the one who killed Smaug."

She could not hide the look of surprise that came over her features. She'd expected the slayer of the mighty Smaug to be boastful in his accomplishment, but Bard didn't show any of those traits. He was humble and caring, and acted like he was just as good as my of them. She could see now why the people elected him as their leader. He was the perfect man for it.

"I see," she said, and was about to ask where exactly they were going when her stomach gave a sudden violent churn. Her eyes widened and she paused in her step. Her breathing started to become heavy and raspy. Her head felt numb and black sports started to dance in her vision.

Legolas stopped walking when he realised that he was no longer being followed. "Amariel—" He then saw how pale she looked and ran to her side. "Amariel, are you alright? You look awfully white."

Her stomach gave another churn and she clutched it, grimacing. "I-I don't know." She felt his hand support her lower back and she slowly leaned back onto him. The black dots kept growing until it was too much and Amariel collapsed onto the ground, unconscious.

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	16. Journeys and Jealousy

**Hey, guys! I know, I know, it's been ages since I last posted a chapter, and I can't promise quick updates although I will try. I can't believe I'm nearing the end of this book! It's been almost two years since I started it! But don't worry, Amariel and Legolas' story will be far from over and I will be most likely, though I don't know when, starting a new story about them set during the time of Lord of the Rings. I'm sure you guys will love it. Please do comment as I love to hear what you guys are thinking!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or any of the characters, only Amariel and insignificant others.**

Chapter Sixteen: Journeys And Jealousy

APOV

 _Azog rode his white warg at the head of a vast company of orcs, thousands and thousands, all armed for battle. They were stomping over a rocky plain, with the Lonely Mountain in the distance. Bolg, the horrendous orc from Laketown, cantered toward the Pale Orc on his hideous warg._

He started to speak in the language of darkness: Black Speech. "( _The King's son and two She-elves_ — _They_ t _racked us down to Laketown.)" Azog rose his stub of an arm into the dusty air. Inserted through it was a long jagged blade._

 _"(And you killed them?)" he growled. It wasn't a question._

 _"(They fled squealing like cowards.)"_

 _"(You fool! They will return with an Army of Elves at their backs!)" he spat viciously._ _"(Ride to Gundabad._ _Let the Legions come forth.)"_ _Bolg grunted in assent and galloped off. Azog turned and faced the army of orcs, raising his bladed arm. "(_ _Elves! Men! Dwarves! The Mountain will be their tomb!)" He began to ride forward once again, his legions following. "(To war!)"_

Amariel awoke in a cold sweat. Her heart was hammering and her head was pounding. At first her surroundings were a swaying blur, but then the world came back into focus.

"Amariel? Are you awake?" said Tauriel, gazing down at her, a look of concern on her features. She nodded her head stiffly. A warm hand was placed upon her forehead, making her look to her right. Legolas was kneeling there, still staring at her with worry.

"She's very warm," he muttered to Tauriel, before looking back to her. "Are you alright?"

"I-I had a dream," she said, her voice croaky, and Legolas' eyes showed understanding. "Well more like a nightmare. But it's never happened like this before. Usually they come when I'm asleep."

"Perhaps, this vision was too important to wait until you were unconscious. Can you remember what you saw?" he asked.

"Yes." How could she forget? "I saw Azog. He was leading an army of thousands. Then I saw the orc from Laketown. He told Azog about us and then rode off towards the north. They are preparing for war."

Legolas nodded his head, as if what she said made perfect sense. "The orcs I saw on the outskirts of Esgaroth were different from the others. They wore a mark I had not seen for a long time. The mark of Gundabad."

"Gundabad?" asked Tauriel, shocked.

"An orc strong-hold in the far north of the Misty Mountains." He held out a hand to Amariel, helping her to her feet. "Will you be able to ride?" Besides feeling slightly dizzy and feverish, she was fine. She nodded her head.

Suddenly, a male elf rode through the crowds up to Legolas. "Hîr nín, Legolas. Celin 'winiath o adar lín. _(My Lord Legolas, I bring word from your Father.)_ Cân i hi danwenidh na le. _(You are to return to him immediately.)_ "

Amariel carefully watched Legolas' face. He was torn between obeying his father and staying with her. "Amariel—"

"It's alright. Return to your father. It must be important," she said, biting her lip. It was hard to make the selfless decision of letting him go, but it would hurt a lot less if she was the one making it instead of him.

Legolas searched her face, his eyes softening. "Not as important as you." At those words, Amariel froze. What did he mean? She breathed in a big breath and closed her eyes. No, he must not get into trouble just for choosing to stay with her. It would be best if he just went.

"Legolas, I'll be fine by myself. I have been for the last few hundred years. Another couple of days won't make much difference."

He gave her a pained look but nodded his head in agreement. "Tolo, Tauriel. _(Come, Tauriel.)_ "

"Hîr nín. Edlennen Tauriel. _(My Lord, Tauriel is banished.)_ "

"Edlennen? _(Banished?)_ " repeated Legolas. The three elves shared a look of surprise. Tauriel couldn't be banished. She had done nothing but help and protect the ones she loved. Surely that could not be a sin worthy of banishment.

"You may tell my father: If there is no place for Tauriel, there is no place for me." Legolas replied curtly. Although she admired him for standing up for his friend, a small part of her couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. She had never seen him do anything like that for her.

"Legolas. It is your King's command," said Tauriel, her voice laced with sadness.

"Naw aran nín, mal ú-gân innas nín. _(Yes, he is my King. But he does not command my heart.)_ " It was then when the small pang of jealousy tore up her chest in a rage similar to a dragon's. It's claws slashed at her heart, shredding it to bits. Just when she had thought that he may feel something for her, he went and stood on that piece of hope, squashing it like it was never there.

"I ride north. Will you come with me?" Legolas asked, leaving the elven messenger.

"To where?" Tauriel questioned, following him.

"To Gundabad."

...

Amariel unleashed a heavy breath and bit her lower lip. She was back on the road again. You'd think she would be use to the constant travelling by now; she'd been doing it for months. But she guessed a part of her was always going to long to settle back down in her old cottage, but then again there was always going to be another part of her who was always going to long for the thrill of adventure. She was one messed up She-elf.

Her pale fingers tightened around Legolas' waist as they rode across the vast plains. Since there were three of them now, Tauriel, being her humble and thoughtful self, offered to ride alone while Legolas and her rode together. On any other day, she would've been pretty happy with the arrangements, but ever since Legolas practically admitted he had feelings for Tauriel, Amariel was too numb to feel anything much. However, she felt no anger or hatred toward the red-headed elf. And to be honest, she wasn't mad at him either. It wasn't his fault he didn't love her. In fact, it was predictable that he'd fall for her; she was perfect. No, she was more angry at the world for making her suffer time after time. How much could a person take?

"We'll be stopping soon. Night is falling and you need your rest." She heard Legolas' voice inform them. He was right, she was exhausted. Especially with the stressful aftermath of Smaug's death and whatever lay in Gundabad nearing ever closer.

By the time they had found a suitable place to rest for the night, Amariel's thoughts had been pulled back to Mithrandir. She felt guilty for not even thinking of him for a long while. An iron fist clenched her heart as she remembered what he could be experiencing at this very moment. She forced herself not to hear her friend's torturing screams echo in her ears. _He will be alright,_ she reassured herself, _He has to be..._ Absentmindedly, her fingers reached up to caress her now dirty and slightly weathered necklace, and she felt the small beads of gold, cold beneath her skin. She hoped that Kili was alright, now that he was healed, and willed that he had been safely reunited with his kin and Bilbo... Bilbo, her little hobbit friend, who was so brave to face dangers that even Gondor's most fiercest warriors would have trouble calming their nerves with. It had been so long since she had seen him, the last time being when he had helped the dwarves escape in the barrels at Mirkwood. So much had happened since then, and it seemed like eons about when she had first laid her eyes again on her Prince... _Her Prince_?! What in Middle-earth was she thinking of? Legolas Greenleaf was in no way, and never would be, _her Prince_. Evidently, his heart had already been captured by Tauriel, and who was to dispute? She was sure that Thranduil would eventually forgive the redheaded She-elf and then would approve of such a fruitful marriage. But then again, Tauriel and Kili already had such a beautiful, innocent love that she was sure that it wouldn't be given up or changed easily. Amariel sighed heavily, it was just all so bewildering! Why were these things never clear?

Finally, the three of them halted in their travels and made camp. The moon shimmered brightly in the sky of black satin, scattered with sequin-silver stars, as Amariel lay on a thin blanket next to the dying embers of the once dancing flames. Even though it was noticeably colder without the burning fire, she was glad that it was now out as it reminded her too much of the disaster that had occurred only one night ago. Trying desperately to ignore the peircing bellows of a dragon's roar that vibrated against her skull, she turned her attention to Legolas who was softly dozing only a few feet away. He looked so peaceful when he slept, and the feeling spread into her bones too. As she lay there gazing at him, she felt her eyelids become heavy and her head loll to one side.

Not a single dream haunted her sleep that night.

Amariel awoke in the early hours of the morning, when only the dawn's sunlit rays filtered through the copses of the trees and onto the dry forest ground. Deciding to endure some alone time until the others woke, she grabbed her sword (in which she had acquired before she had left Laketown), and headed deeper into the woods.

The forest was hickory-brown, and the grass, which was littered with leaves and wood sorrel, was crispy under her feet. Looking up, she saw that beyond the towering trees, there was a berry-blue sky with a mist of clouds. Hares were scampering away into the bushes up ahead. She walked in and out of shady glades, the forest's fresh smell seeping up her nose. Soon enough, she found an area clear of trees and plants, unsheathed her silver blade that was glinting in the sunlight, and began to practise her tactics. At first, her movements were swift and precise, and she felt, if only for a second, like a true elf. But then Mithrandir's usually tranquil face, now twisted in torment, flooded her senses. A wave of anger overtook her and she started to wield her sword in a more harsh, unbalanced way. She would make those miserable orcs pay for what they were doing, she would make them suffer as Mithrandir had, giving them a slow and painful death. Swinging her sword savagely and gritting her teeth, she imagined the orcs withering on the floor, begging for mercy as she sliced off their limb by limb while—

Her vicious thoughts fueled were cut short by the shrilly ' _shring'_ of another blade blocking hers. She peered through the cross made by the two swords to find Legolas' charming face staring back at her, a light smirk on his lips. After getting over the initial surprise of her sudden company, she tried to push his blade down with her own but he side-stepped her, dodging out of the way.

"What are you doing here?" she asked whilst continuing to parry. "I thought you were asleep?"

"You thought wrong," he said, easily blocking her strike. "My, Amariel, your skills have lackened considerably."

The blonde She-elf growled slightly. "They must have," she retorted, spinning out of his reach. "For you to actually be beating me."

"Ah," he smiled, deflecting her blow. "So you admit it."

She scowled. "Admit what?"

Legolas expertly swung at her, and she only just got out of harm's way in time by dropping to the ground. Brandishing her sword, she swiped at his legs but, unfortunately, missed. Standing up again, she charged at him, but again he parried off her attack, chopping off an inch of her hair while he did. A moment passed and she stood still, gaping. How _dare_ he?! Bruise her or cut her if he wished, but he would _not_ touch her hair! Recovering herself, Amariel gripped her sword tighter and ferociously attacked him. The Prince was beginning to have trouble deflecting all her blows, and this made her smirk grow. Suddenly, just as she thought she was gaining the upper hand, Amariel, so engrossed in her fighting, did not notice a large tree root jutting out into her path, and tripped right over it, knocking Legolas down with her. _Thud!_ They slammed against the dirt, moaning in pain. Amariel's fall, however, was broken a bit by the man who was now below her, staring into her violet eyes.

"Admit what?" she repeated softly, as she met his piercing gaze. Legolas did not reply, only tilt his head forward, his warm breath fluttering against hers. Her pounding heart sped up, and she willed that he would not notice. Amariel's eyes flickered down to his slightly parted lips. She inhaled a shaky breath and tried to move her gaze elsewhere but it seemed drawn to that very part of his face, and, she too, leaned forward. His lips were like a magnet, hauling her in, her mind blank with anticipation and wonder. What would it taste like, after all these years? Would it be the same magnificent feeling, or a new one, fit for exploration? Her hands trailed up his chest as his face grew ever closer. It was only an inch away when Amariel's common sense returned. What did she think she was doing? This was utter madness! Quickly, she pulled away, rolling off him, and standing up again. Her heart was still hammering in her chest, but this time not because of him, but because she was so close to making one of the biggest mistakes of her life. Had she not learned that all kissing him would achieve, was an existence of heartbreak? She was a foolish, stupid girl. With that in her head, she walked away back through the woods, without even a glance back.

Legolas and Amariel didn't speak a word to eachother for the rest of the day. Luckily, Tauriel, sensing discomfort between the two of them, offered to ride with the a Prince instead, making Amariel very grateful. The time crawled past like a sloth, as if taunting her, knowing well about how each disturbing thought that crossed her mind hovered for what seemed like a lifetime. Eventually, night did envelope them, and they halted their journey to make camp for the second time.

Once they were finished, she snuggled into the warmth of her blanket, and willed herself to fall asleep quickly. And she did, but her sleep was not as quiet as she'd hoped.

 _A canopy of emerald green vines and intricate small flowers dangled above a younger version of Amariel. Sighing in wonder, her fingers brushed over the plants and a small smile graced her face. The night shone above her, illuminating her pale white skin in the moonlight. Her beautiful blonde locks were pinned up in a swirling braided bun and she wore a draping silky pale blue dress with wide-cuffed sleeves._

 _"How are you feeling?" came a melodic male voice. Legolas appeared, pulling back the hanging vines to enter the tiny secret garden. At the sound of his voice, she spun around, her smile increasing._

 _"Nervous, to be honest," she admitted. "Tomorrow will be one of the most important days of my life."_

 _"Do not worry, Amariel," soothed Legolas, coming towards her and wrapping his arms around her stomach from behind. "I'm sure everything will go wonderfully."_

 _"I do hope so," she said, leaning against his sturdy form. He lowered his head and placed a sweet kiss on her full lips, before proceeding to plant gentle butterfly kisses along her neck and jaw. She giggled, making him grin. "Oh, how I love you," she whispered softly, her eyes glowing with sincerity._

 _"As I you," he replied quietly "my beautiful bride."_

 _Amariel's heart lifted at these words. Oh how she had been waiting for the day in which tomorrow would bring. The day of their wedding. The occasion was well-known throughout the kingdom and many the people were to be gathered for the ceremony in the King's hall. Of course, Amariel was extremely anxious, but as long as Legolas was there beside her, she would be brave. She would be strong._

* * *

For the most part of the following day, they rode through the mountains, plains, and rivers in silence. Tauriel would occasionally initiate conversation between them, but the awkwardness would always become too much to bear. The journey was long and tiresome but at least they weren't being chased by gruesome orcs, or even worse, Azog. Amariel would sometimes, when she was sure the Prince wasn't looking, glance over at him and try to read his expression, last night's dream still fresh in her head. But his face would give away nothing, it was utterly emotionless. It was hard to cope with the memory of the dream as that had been one of the last good moments she had had before her life had gone to pot.

Halfway through their travelling, Tauriel suggested that they take a break and scavenge around for food. Legolas and Amariel stiffly agreed and less than a half hour later they had separated in different directions, on a search to satisfy their grumbling stomachs. The weather was a bit cloudier today and came with a cold breeze, chilling her arms and legs. There weren't many animals in this part of the woods either. She supposed that as they neared closer to the darkness of Gundabad the less they would see of the wildlife. Amariel was just checking under the leaves of a prickly bush, when her feet slid out beneath her and she toppled backwards down a previously unseen, steep hill. Twigs scratched her neck and scraped at her cheeks, causing speckles of blood to trail down them. At last, she tumbled to a stop and dizzily stood up, glancing around. She gasped; her surroundings were absolutely alluring.

It was a wide and open garden, sloping gently down to a lapis-blue river. A grove of pines flanked her on one side, with a thicket of peaceful willows standing peacefully on the other. A series of round bushes ran down the centre of the garden, casting a lake of shadows onto the lush grass. The scene tugged at her heart, reminding her of her little cottage, a thousand miles away. How she wished for her home in that moment, where should could pour herself some tea, pick herself some apples, and sit back relax on her comfortable but mini bed, while reading the weathered pages of _Vanya Sulie_. Her day-dream was concluded, however, when she glimpsed down at her clothing. Her top had been majorly ripped from the fall, and, to Amariel's horror, only reached just past her breasts until it had been torn off completely. Now her entire midriff was showing, and she looked very indecent indeed. Shaking her head and muttering to herself, she began to hurriedly gather some nuts off the bushes, before scurrying up the hill, and back into the rather drab woods.

It took a while for her to navigate her way back to the edge of the forest where the other two members of her company were waiting. Upon seeing Amariel and what she was carrying, Tauriel grinned widely and gestured for her to come forward.

"Oh, good," the redheaded elf said, taking the nuts. "I was hoping that you would find something. These woods are rather bare, Legolas and I could not find a thing." She glanced at the Prince and the blonde She-elf. "Shall we eat them now?"

Legolas did not answer, for he hadn't been listening to a thing Tauriel had been saying since Amariel's arrival. He was staring at her, his sharp blue eyes wide open. To be precise, he was gazing at large strip of bare skin on her stomach. His throat had suddenly gone very dry.

"Amariel," he said, his voice husky. "What happened?"

The She-elf looked confused for a second, before blushing bright red. "Oh, nothing. Just a little fall, is all," she muttered, avoiding his eye. There was silence for a while, Legolas unable to draw his eyes away from her, and Amariel shuffling on her feet, pulling at the ends of the threads, as if pleading for them to grow longer. Tauriel, sensing a new wave of awkwardness, evened out the nuts, gave a pile to each of them, before telling them that they should be going, as they had wasted enough time already. Legolas broke out of his stupor and swung himself onto his horse, as Amariel did the same to the other. Their minds, for now, had been cleared and they had only one thought in them: they needed to get to Gundabad.

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	17. Gundabad and the Arkenstone

**Hey everyone! I'm a little annoyed that this chapter is kinda short, and I'm really sorry about that. Perhaps the next one will be longer. But on a happier note, I have updated rather quickly and hopefully I will continue this streak. I really hope you like the little flashback/memory I did with Legolas and Amariel in here, and please comment if you did and tell me what you thought about it. Well I won't prevent you from reading any longer. Have fun and please review!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or any of the characters, only Amariel and insignificant others.**

Chapter Seventeen: Gundabad and the Arkenstone

APOV

The mountains were little more than a layer of poor soil over rock. Scrubby grass could be found in patches as they walked, though as they neared closer to the darkness, even the wild patches began to fade. On the hill tops the cold wind was fierce and bitter, and smacked Amariel's golden curls into her face, leaving blotted red marks. The paths were pale brown and had long since overgrown, branching out in different directions at certain points making it harder to determine their way. But finally, on their third afternoon of travelling, they reached a dry rocky peak situated on the doorstep of the colossal steel gates that lead to Gundabad. Legolas crouched down on the ground, his penetrating forget-me-not eyes searching the surroundings of the fortress. Amariel knelt down next to him on the stoney dirt and Tauriel followed suite.

"Gundabad," the auburn-haired elf breathed. "What lies beyond?"

"An old enemy — the ancient kingdom of Angmar. This fortress was once its stronghold. It is where they kept their great armories, forged their weapons of war." A shadow of light flickered in one of the high windows of the fortress, but it was gone as quickly as it had came.

"A light! I saw movement," said Tauriel, her eyes glued to the dark window.

Legolas nodded. "We wait for the cover of night. It is a fell place, Tauriel. In another age our people waged war on those lands." The Prince then paused, a pained look on his pale face. Amariel frowned, a feeling of sorrow weighing down her heart. She hated seeing him like this, even after all he had done. The two shared a connection, an unbreakable bond, and so when he was grieved, she couldn't help but feel the same. But, unlike for Legolas, the feeling was not foreign to her, it was familiar and held years of unforgettable memories. "My mother died there," he continued solemnly. "My father does not speak of it. There is no grave, no memory, nothing."

Tauriel's face softened and a look of regret and despair lingered on her features. She reached out a hand and placed it on Legolas' shoulder in a comforting manner. He stiffened at the action and, surprisingly, gave a weary glance in Amariel's direction. She instantly understood what he was thinking, for the memory had also come to her mind.

 _The day was gusting with diagonal sheets of rain, freezing and paling Amariel's skin. The path through the forest was muddy water in motion, filling deep puddles, and soaking through her leather boots. The cold liquid pelted her face, sliding down and sticking to her long black lashes, blurring her vision. But despite the chill and torrential sounds coming from skyward, Amariel was smiling and laughing as the blonde male elf lead her by the hand through the roughly swaying trees._

 _"Legolas," she chuckled, her voice getting lost in the wind and rain. "How much further?"_

 _He didn't answer, only run faster into the woods, dragging Amariel behind him. They continued like this for a while until both of them were completely and utterly drenched in water. Finally, Legolas halted at the entrance of a large, dark, hollow cave, and he beckoned her in after him. Amariel's white cold hands reached up to squeeze the water from her hair, and she bit her wet lip as she glanced around._

 _The cave was warmer than expected, and it was only with her sharp elf eyes that she could see what was on front of her. Legolas took a seat on the soil ground, leaning up against the cavern's wall, and Amariel did the same._

 _"Why did you take me here, Legolas," she asked curiously, staring up at him, for she was a good head shorter than he was._

 _"I thought you might enjoy a bit of adventure, instead of being all cooped up in the palace," he answered with a slight smile._

 _Amariel beamed and leaned her head onto his shoulder, trying to get some warmth. "Have you been here before?"_

 _"Yes, well, it was a long time ago," he answered briefly, looking a little uncomfortable. She gazed up at him, her brow creased, and wondered what was bothering him._

 _"What's wrong?" she asked, concerned. "Darling, what is the matter?"_

 _He tried to give her a reassuring smile but it ended up as more like a grimace. "Nothing, it's nothing. I am fine."_

 _"No your not," she persisted, frowning. "You know you can tell me anything."_

 _Legolas sighed heavily. "I know, Amariel. And I'm grateful for that, but... but this isn't really a subject I want to discuss."_

 _The blonde She-elf nodded but still looked worried. "No, that's alright, I understand."_

 _For a moment, their eyes met, startling blue against vibrant violet. Amariel held her breath, not daring to break the silence, and, for some strange reason, she felt rather intimidated. All they could hear was the pattering of the rain outside. Then Legolas broke away, took a deep breath, and began to speak._

 _"I was young when it happened. Only an elfling. There were wars raging; Mirkwood and Gundabad especially were deep in violent battles. Our kingdom was becoming dire as our foe seemed to be gaining the upper hand. It was in this time when my mother had a sudden willingness to go to war. She was a great warrior and would perhaps help turn the tables of the battle, but my father would simply not allow her to go." Amariel was quiet, devouring and listening closely to her love's every word. "Somehow, though, she escaped the castle and travelled to the gates of Gundabad where the war was held. My father suspected that someone had helped her out of the kingdom, for she was heavily guarded and it would've been impossible for her to escape without aid. She fought valiantly, and killed many of the enemy soldiers. The tables had turned and we were beginning to reach victory when something happened that none of them expected. Their leader, my mother, was killed. We do not know who did the deed, all I know was that afterwards my father did not speak of the incident. There was no grave, no memory, no nothing. She was just... gone. This place—" he gestured to the cave, "— was where I escaped to when the grief became to much to bear. This was where I was alone with my thoughts and I could remember my mother in peace. In the end, this was the place that helped me to overcome the sorrow of her death, and it holds many memories for me."_

 _When Legolas had finished his tale, Amariel did not say anything for a moment, but then she nodded her head and whispered something very softly. "Thank you."_

 _A look of confusion cross_ _ed his face. "Thank you? Why are you thanking me? There is nothing to be grateful about."_

 _"But there is," she replied slowly. "You told me about your mother even though it was hard for you. You trusted me enough to let me in, and for that, I am thankful."_

 _Legolas looked shocked for a second but then a weak smile graced his lips. "Of course I trust you, Amariel. You are everything to me. And to be honest, you remind me of her. She was fierce and loyal and caring and beautiful just like you." Amariel did not need to ask who 'her' was, and his compliment made butterflies flutter around in her stomach._

 _"I know she would be proud of you, Legolas. I know that she must have loved you very much," she said gently. "Just as I do."_

Amariel's mind returned to the present with a jolt and she noticed the both of her elvish companions were staring at her with strange looks.

"Are you alright, Amariel?" asked Tauriel. "Your face just went completely blank. It was like you were in a trance."

"Yeah, I'm fine," she answered, glancing sideways at Legolas. "I was just... remembering something."

If her answer perplexed Tauriel in any way, she didn't show it, and quickly got back to the task at hand. "I think we should go higher. We can get a better look at the fortress and will be able to spot any movement more easily."

Amariel's throat went dry and her stomach dropped ten feet. "Er... higher?" she gulped, leering down at the already far away ground. She hadn't noticed the height they were at much, but now that Tauriel mentioned it, she suddenly felt a woozy feeling in the pit of her belly and became somewhat light-headed.

"I think we'll be able to see them fine from here," said Legolas, shooting her a wary glance. For the first time in a while, she felt a wave of extreme gratitude towards him. He also saved her from having to shamefully admit that she, an elf, was deadly scared of heights.

"Are you sure?" said Tauriel. "I don't see the harm in just going up a little higher."

"I'm sure," replied Legolas firmly. Amariel sighed in relief as Tauriel slowly inclined her head and continued to watch the monstrous tower.

The early dusk sunlight was quickly obliterated by the rapidly falling night. The once salmon and purple sky transformed into a vast expanse of coal-black that engulfed the fortress and mountainside. A canopy of tiny white stars materialized amongst the curtain of blackness. But they were dull, merely flickering into existence every now and then, it was as if the darkness of Gundabad had reached even the most remote places.

"If we are going in — we should move now," said Tauriel, making the other two nod their heads in agreement. They were about to get to their feet when, quite suddenly, a colony of massive bats flew out of nowhere, screeching piercing noises and soaring over their heads.

"What are they doing?" Amariel asked, gaping at the huge bats.

"Dúilith secherig, _(They are swarming)_ ," answered Tauriel.

"These bats are bred for one purpose," informed Legolas, observing the animals.

"For what?"

"For war."

Amariel watched as the bats swarmed overhead, and a figure rode out of the fortress on a Warg. With a jolt she realized he was Bolg, the orc that they had fought in Laketown. He was dressed for battles wearing steel and metal armour, and he raised his mace and shouted out a command. The sound of eerie trumpets echoed in her ears and the tall gates at the bottom of the tower opened with a loud creak. Amariel gasped and her eyes widened as rank upon ranks of orcs charged out of the gates, each with a giant spear at least three times their height.

Bolg called out another order and the massive army began marching away, with the bats following and wheeling overhead.

"Din methithar i phain _(We must warn the others.)_ " Tauriel exclaimed, jumping agilely to her feet, and Amariel hurriedly followed suite, her brain pulsing with worry. This army would be heading for the mountain, there was no doubt about that, and they would slaughter any living being that stood in their way. Including her dear little Bilbo.

"Penim lû. Tolo! _(We may be too late — hurry!)_ " Legolas said, leading the trio of elves off the rocky outcrop and over to the two horses that were waiting for them not too far away. Amariel heard Bolg yell out another command and the ranks of orcs parted to let smaller, lighter, and faster ors sprint ahead of their companions, snarling. As quick as she could, she swung herself onto a horse, pleading with all her heart that her friends would be okay.

BPOV

Bilbo Baggins clutched a long rope in his sweaty hands, twirling the threads around in his finger. He bit his lip, body shaking slightly, nervous about the task he knew he had to do. The white moon was shining brightly in the inky sky, casting its rays of silvery light upon the shadowed ground. A gentle breeze ruffled his curly chestnut brown hair and caused prickles of goosebumps to pop up upon his arms. Bilbo took a big breath and threw the rope over the edge of the blocked up entrance of Erebor, watching as it slipped all the way down. Trying to calm his trembling nerves, he clambered slowly down the stone wall, climbing across the deep, broad moat using some of the rubble, and began to run as fast as his little legs could carry him towards Dale.

The journey was exhausting as it was a fair distance between the two cities, and Bilbo had to push himself with all his might to reach Dale without stopping more than three times to catch his breath. His hairy feet pounded against the rocks and dirt, his round face beetroot red and prespirating madly. Eventually and completely out if breath, Bilbo arrived at the camp where the Lakesmen and woman slept, and he crept through the lines of blankets and snoring people until he reached a huge, fancy tent where he supposed that intimidating, snobby Elf King stayed. As he neared the tent, a group of voices deep in conversation echoed towards him.

"You, Bowman! Do you agree with this?" challenged a very familiar gruff voice. "Is gold so important to you? Would you buy it with the blood of dwarves?!" Excited at hearing Gandalf's voice, Bilbo sped up, carefully sneaking past some Laketown guards.

"It will not come to that. This is a fight they cannot win," replied another voice with certainty. He recognized it as coming from that man who helped them find weapons, Bard.

He quietly slipped into the tent and addressed the two speakers solemnly. "That won't stop them. You think the dwarves will surrender — they won't. They will fight to the death to defend their own."

Gandalf turned to see who had spoken and a merry smile broke across his face as he saw Bilbo.

"Bilbo Baggins," he welcomed. The hobbit, for a moment, smiled happily back, overjoyed at seeing his protector and friend again, before a sudden thought hit his mind.

"Gandalf, where is Amariel? Do you know?"

The wizard frowned, making his wrinkles look even more prominent. "She is not with you?"

Bilbo shook his head. "I haven't seen her since Mirkwood."

A look of realization and almost amusement flashed in Gandalf's eyes, making Bilbo very confused. "Ah," he said. "No, no I haven't seen her of late." A wave of worry for his best friend washed over him and he pleaded that she was alright, but before he could ask any more after her, Gandalf's next words caught his attention. "Now, what brings you here, Mr Baggins?"

After rapidly explaining to Gandalf that he needed an audience with King Thranduil, the old wizard nodded and told him to wait there while he went to fetch him. Bilbo and Bard stood in an awkward silence while Gandalf was gone, until the Bowman finally spoke up.

"Amariel," he started, catching Bilbo's interest at once. "She's the pretty, blonde elf, isn't she?"

"Yes," Bilbo confirmed, slightly suspicious on how he knew her. "How do you know her?"

"I met her in Laketown after the Dragon's fall with two other elves, Prince Legolas and another red haired She-elf. Last I heard they were heading to Gundabad." Perplexion and dread filled him but he didn't have time to say much more about it because a second later Gandalf returned with the King on his tail.

"If I'm not mistaken, this is the halfling who stole the keys to my dungeons from under the nose of my guards," drawled Thranduil, peering down at him with those scarily intimidating eyes. Bilbo shuffled on his feet, feeling extremely uncomfortable. He had hoped that the King would not remember that particular incident.

"Yes. Sorry about that," Bilbo apologized sheepishly. No one spoke for a while, then Bilbo stepped forward and placed the wrapped package that he had carried in his pocket all the way here on the table. "I came... to give you this." He began to unwrap it revealing the Arkenstone, and he felt his stomach clench a bit in anxiety, though he tried not to show it.

"The heart of the mountain!" Thranduil exclaimed as he saw the stone. "The King's Jewel!" Both Gandalf and Bard approached it with awe as well.

"And worth a king's ransom," said Bard. "How is this yours to give?"

"I took it as my fifteenth share of the treasure," answered Bilbo, puffing out his chest with as much courage as he could muster, making the old wizard smile slightly.

"Why would you do this? You owe us no loyalty," said Bard, gazing down at the little hobbit. But he had no time to answer because Thranduil suddenly interrupted, his dark eyebrows creased in thought.

"Fifteenth?" his deep voice repeated. "How is it that you have a fifteenth share when there, as far as I know, are only fourteen members of your company?"

"Well, there's Amariel too, she's an elf," he answered. A glint of recognition darkened the King's eyes and Gandalf shot a frown at the hobbit. Bilbo felt utterly confused. Had he said something wrong?

"So," said Thranduil in a dangerously quiet voice. "You mean to say that that _girl_ —" he spat out her name, "—was in my kingdom during you and the dwarves' stay?"

"Um, yes?" replied Bilbo, failing to see how this was important. "But she wasn't with me or in the cells. I think she was with your son."

Anger could be visible on the King's face now and it turned a shade of light purple. Bilbo noticed that his fists were clenched.

"And where," he said through gritted teeth, "is _she_ now?"

"Er, I'm not entirely sure. Bard said she was in Gundabad with the Prince," said Bilbo, biting his lip, and Gandalf let out an exasperated sigh. _What was going on?_ he thought, absolutely clueless.

"Is she now?" said Thranduil, his voice on edge and his face very purple now.

Bard, clearly seeing this and hoping to step in before someone got hurt, repeated his previous question. "So, why are you doing this?"

Bilbo sighed in relief with the change of subject. "I'm not doing it for you. I know that dwarves can be obstinate and pigheaded and difficult, suspicious and secretive… with the worst manners you can possibly imagine, but they also brave and kind... and loyal to a fault. I've grown very fond of them, and I would save them if I can. Thorin values this stone above all else. In exchange for its return, I believe he will give you what you are owed. There will be no need for war!" After he had finished his little speech he saw the three men share meaningful glances, but he wasn't really sure what they meant.

Not too long later, Bilbo found himself walking down a cobbled path beside Gandalf, his thoughts straying to Amariel and Thorin and the dwarves.

"Rest up tonight. You must leave on tomorrow," said Gandalf, guiding the hobbit through the sleeping villagers.

"What?" he exclaimed, utterly shocked. What did Gandalf mean? Surely he didn't want him to actually go? They needed him, the dwarves needed him, Amariel needed him. No, it couldn't be.

"Get as far away from here as possible."

"I'm — I'm not leaving. You picked me as the fifteenth man. I'm not about to leave the company now," he countered, crossing his arms over his chest.

"There is no company — not any more. And I don't like to think what Thorin will do when he finds out what you've done," said Gandalf, looking pointedly at his companion.

"I'm not afraid of Thorin," said Bilbo, trying to sound courageous.

"But you should be!" retorted Gandalf. "Don't underestimate the evil of gold. Gold over which a serpent has long brooded. Dragon-sickness seeps into the hearts of all who come near this mountain." The old wizard gave Bilbo an appraising look. "Almost all."

They continued to walk for a bit until a monobrowed, greasy-looking man came shuffling by and Gandalf called out to him. "You there! Find this hobbit a bed, and fill his belly with hot food. He's deserved it." Bilbo sent a quick smile but at the wizard before the greasy man grudgingly came over and began to usher Bilbo away, making his smile instantly drop. He didn't like this man very much at all, and he smelt rather funny too. Like rotten fish.

Behind him, he heard the man cursing as a group of people walked in front of them, and he roughly pushed his way between them. He gave Bilbo an aggressive shove on the back and growled, "Move it! Stupid..."

The hobbit sighed; it was going to be a long night.

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